Pirates of the Caribbean: The Son of Jack Sparrow
by Wise Philosopher
Summary: The result of a love affair with a beautiful Countess will come back to haunt Jack, in more ways than one. Read and Review
1. The Countess and The Pirate

Author's 2 cents: This part of the story takes place about ten or fifteen years before the first movie. (also because it's been confusing some folks this is NOT a daughter-of-jack-sparrow-in-drag-and-pretending-to-be-a-son fic just so we're clear on that.)

Disclaimer: I'm a bit prettier than ol' Jerry Bruckheimer and the folks at Walt Disney Corp. so I don't own Jack or any of the characters from the movies but the made up ones in this story are all mine.

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"Once upon a time, 'dare lived a boy named Jack Sparrow, who wandered da seven seas. He hair was dark as night, and he eyes were da most remarkable dark eyes. 'Dye were clever eyes 'dat shined like black pearls. He was a clever boy dis Sparrow, d'ough you never know it from de idiot tings he do. He was a t'eft dis boy, always getting himself into trouble, but somehow he always talk himself out of trouble. Dis boy became a pirate. Soon he find himself working for a wealt'y Count as a servant. What de Count didn't know was dat Jack be only biding he time until he could find out were da Count hid a ring. Ya see dis ring was no ordinary ring, it belong to a beautiful and powerful princess before da Count stole it from her. Dis princess she send Jack to get her ring back in exchange for a very special compass, one dat shows da heart what it wants most. But what Jack didn't know was dat da Countess, de wife of de Count had been watching Jack and knew what he was up to. Da Count kept de ring locked, hidden away in a secret room dat not even da Countess knew about. One day while spying on da Count, Jack sees him opening a wall, den Jack, he know dat is where da ring must be. When da Count leave he go into dis room to find dat it is filled with jewels and treasure more dan even he could have imagined. And atop a mound of gold sitting in a box he sees something glittering green surrounded by tiny silver skulls, it is me ring he sees. As he leaves da room with da ring and more gold dan he can hold he sees da Countess with a sword ready to slit he throat. Dey fight until da Countess have Jack against a wall, and den she pierce he heart."

The small Spanish girl gasped as she held her blanket. "Did he die?"

Tia Dalma smiled charmed by the large eyed girl. She grinned both frightening and charismatic to the small girl. "No chial', He live, he live as though he just been born at dat very moment, but what da Countess didn't realize was dat Jack had already pierce her heart long before. And den Jack say to da Countess…"

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Jack stood up against the wall, a grin smeared across his face, and his hands up one holding the prized ring. His sword was three feet away from him but doomed from his reach due to the sword poking his chest. His hair was shorter and minus several beads and the deer shin bone but he had the same smug air about him.

The young countess' hair was a mess from the sword fight but to young Jack's surprise she was a great swordsman er… swordswoman. In any case here she was in her nearly sheer under things with a sword pointed straight at Jack's heart (which was beating a little harder at the notion of what was beneath her nearly sheer under things).

"What are you grinning about?" said the countess venomous even if in a silvery tone.

"I was thinking," he snickered. "What a delight it is to die at the hands of such a beautiful creature as yourself, my dear countess."

The countess smiled yet another lock of her brown hair falling out of place and in front of her face though she didn't move. Her fearsome blue eyes still leered at Jack. "Trying to charm your way out of death?" she pressed the sword closer to his chest ready to prick the skin. "That's low even for a pirate."

"And sharp too, how ever did you guess luv?" he seemed absolutely fearless.

The countess eyed his attire up and down. "It's easier than you give me credit for."

"Tell me luv," he tilted his head to the side slightly. "Why risk life and limb, fight a pirate for what is clearly a very dishonest husband." His brow creased appearing both sympathetic and concerned.

Her delicate features became stern. "A wife must always stand by or defend the honor of her husband, even if he be a less than honorable man." She held out her small hand. "Now give me the ring."

He glanced at the ring in his left hand twirling it in his fingers. "Oh this, well… no."

She pressed the sword closer now cutting the first layer of skin. "Then you force me to kill you, Sparrow."

Jack winced as the sword cut him. "Might I be granted one last request?"

"Say it and be done." she commanded.

His dark eyes glinted as they looked at her. "Why would a woman who clearly has no love for her old geezer of a husband defend his honor so?"

"How dare you! You cheek bastar--"

"You didn't answer, luv!" He said quickly holding his hands downward to vainly stop the sword before she ran him through. He was frozen for a moment in a bizarre pose one leg bent as though trying to also shield him. His eyes darted from the sword to the countess as he waited for an answer.

She paused for a moment her furious features calming. She looked at him for a moment then glanced down with a faint sadness despite her hardhearted front. "I didn't have a choice, I was forced into it." She said softly.

Jack's face softened as he eyed the young woman. A faint smiled graced his lips. He lowered his leg and his arms slowly and stood as normal, or rather as normal as he ever stood.

The countess didn't look at him as she slowly lowered the sword. "Take the ring and just go." She commanded softly

Jack didn't take his eyes off her as he sauntered with his normal hip swiveling walk towards her. "Why the sudden change of heart luv?"

"I decided to be merciful, and don't call me that!" she still couldn't seem to look him in the eye. She took the smallest step backwards her head pointed downward. The sword was now held at her side as though she were trying to conceal it.

Jack, seeing a clear opportunity and never being the sort to pass one up pressed his luck even further. "What should I call you then? Darling perhaps?" He took a step closer. He slipped his hand along her waist.

She looked up at him fiercely her face pink. "I said take the ring and go."

His eyes stared back at her soft and dark, as he tossed the ring across the floor.

She looked up at him confused for a moment then shocked as he grabbed hold of her and kissed her. Slowly and dazed she wrapped her arms around him.

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" 'Dye fall in love."

The little Spaniard grinned.

Tia Dalma's face became somber and sullen. "But it was not to be for soon da Count found out about dare love affair, and was quick to do away with Jack, but Jack is clever and he manage to outwit he hunters."

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Jack wailed as he went tumbling out of the countess' window and landed in the stables below.

Jack rubbed his head with one hand holding his shirt and boots in the other. He dizzily staggered into the rear end of one of the Count's prized horses and one Jack had cared for while waiting for the location of the ring. "Chico, is that you?" He said talking still delirious from the fall and a good deal of rum prior, into the animals tail. "How've you been, mate?" He took a step back taking a look at the hole he'd left in the roof. Just looking at it made his head hurt. "Frankly, I've been better" he said rubbing his head.

"Jack!"

Jack turned to the horse with dazed confusion. "Chico?"

"Jack!" Jack recognized the countess' strained whisper from the … very high window above.

"Oh, I suppose that would be the soon to be little Mrs. Sparrow" He leaned close to the horse's ear. "Seems a bit ambivalent about the whole separation matter." He glanced up again at the hole in the roof. He rolled his eyes remembering the pain "Very ambivalent."

"Jack!"

Jack tiptoed with his arms out, struggling through rum and concussion induced delirium to get to the door.

The countess poked her head out the window as Jack stumbled out of the stables. "Jack, you must run the Count has his men looking for you."

"Oh I'm fine thank you for asking." Jack said mildly annoyed.

"Oh" the countess' face turned sympathetic. "My poor darling, I'm so sorry." She looked at him terribly pained. "Are you badly hurt?"

"No, luckily I landed on my head." He rubbed his head once more. "A part of my anatomy I've been using sparsely these days."

The countess' hand went up to her lips in worry. "Really Jack you must hurry, they'll be after you."

Jack just grinned, blew her a kiss and began to run for his life.

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Jack skidded down the alley way tugging on his boots when he heard the very distinct voice of danger behind him.

"There he goes get him!"

Jack yelled as he dodged and ran from the hail of bullets after him.

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"So da countess realized she must stab he heart once more to save his body and soul…"

"Come with me."

"No, Jack."

Jack's soft eyes shone as he looked at her. He cupped her face with his hand. "Why stay with a man who doesn't love you," he gently stroked her hair with his ring covered fingers. "Think about it luv, all he can offer you is a cage I'm offering you the world" He tilted her chin to look him in the eye, which she had been avoiding. "Nothing but golden horizons on the deck of a ship."

The countess laughed awkwardly still trying not to look him in the eye. "Smooth talker, you don't even have a ship."

"A minor set back" He said airily. Her silence was causing his confidence to waver. He lowered his voice as he spoke. "you don't love him."

She tilted her head down so he couldn't see her bite her lip. She summoned all her strength to do what she had to do. She ignored the knot in her stomach that was screaming that he was right, that she was willingly staying in her cage when she could be free, free with Jack Sparrow. She didn't have a choice. With her head still bowed she spoke softly a small ironic smile on her heart-shaped lips that he couldn't see. "You are right Jack I don't love him." Kill him to save him. She looked him straight in the eyes her features cold and stony. "But that doesn't mean I love you."

Jack stared at her blankly for a moment certain he hadn't heard her correctly. "You're lying." he said calmly.

Her eyes looked up at him pleadingly though the rest of her face remained cold. She touched his hand that was still holding her face. She squeezed tightly then slowly removed it from her cheek and pushed it towards his chest.

Jack still looking expressionless gazed down at his hand. He uncoiled his fingers to reveal the green stone ring.

"I never want to see you again." she said in a low near trembling voice.

A small smile appeared on his face to her surprise. He lightly brushed her face one last time. "Whatever you say, luv." And with that he was gone.

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"But why didn't the countess go with Jack?" Asked the wee Spaniard sitting up in her bed in outrage.

"She wanted to," Said Tia Dalma stroking the girl's hair in a tender and maternal way. "painfully she long to sail a-way with him, but you see what Jack didn't know was dat de countess was keeping a secret dat…"

"Get the hell out of my home" A silvery voice interrupted the voodoo priestess at the peek of the story.

Tia Dalma calmly almost coyly turned to look at the woman pointing a sword in her direction. She leaned down on the little Spaniard's bed that she had been sitting on until now with her head resting on her hand. "Now, now Amelia is dat any way to talk to an old friend."

"Don't lie to yourself Tia Dalma we've never been friends"

Tia Dalma smiled. "I su'pose you are right" She stood up with the posture of an empress and more dominance than even the woman who stood before her, if that was possible. Her right arm was crooked touching her shoulder. Her exotic clothes seemed to flutter as she advanced towards the woman who would not lower her sword.

The little girl seemed shocked, never in her life had she heard her saintly, poised mother use such language.

"T'ink hard before ya decide ta turn a blade upon me." Tia Dalma never stopped smiling, but through the sweetness of her smile and her voice, was a clear threat. The woman seemed unfazed by it.

The beautiful woman stood calmly with perfect posture not for a swordsman but for a lady. She made what by a great stretch of the imagination could be interpreted as a smile at Tia Dalma. "Think hard before you decide to risk _this_ blade."

"Aye, ya be more skilled wit' a blade dan anyone I've seen," She stopped gliding towards her now and simply stood before her hands as her sides. "But even if ya held da best prowess wit' a sword in all da seven seas do ya t'ink dat would protect ya from me?" Both women were very aware of the situation, that even if the woman wanted to kill Tia Dalma she could never manage it.

The woman decided to try a different tactic. "Why are you here?"

"Ya didn't t'ink I could miss de birt'day of my favorite little countess ta be could I?" she spun on her heel to look at the little girl sitting in the bed. She reached behind her back which was now facing the woman and a small purple box with black ribbon materialized in her hand. She brought her hand forth to show the young girl.

The girl's blue eyes grew big with excitement at the sight of the gift. She clapped her hands as Tia Dalma glided next to her bed. Before the woman could object the small Spaniard grabbed the box eyes locked on it. She frowned then she looked up at Tia Dalma. "But my birthday isn't for months."

Tia Dalma pouted. "Does dat mean ya don't want it?" she said extending her arms to the box.

The girl hugged the box to her chest defensively. "No."

Tia Dalma smiled and lightly played with the girl's golden hair as she looked at the woman clearly tensed by Tia Dalma being so near to her daughter. "I t'aught it be a nice way of reminding ya mo'der what an important day it t'is today. Do ya be remembering why today be so important Condesa Amelia?"

"May I open it now?" she asked. Quickly she covered her mouth embarrassed she had interrupted.

Tia Dalma looked down at the girl. "I t'ink perhaps ya should wait until I am gone, Don't ya worry I won't be much longer." She turned her attention back to the woman. "Do ya be remembering da vow you made to me?"

The condesa stiffened. "You were vague, but as I recall I still have ten more years before my debt is due."

"Dis is true," Smiled Tia Dalma her wide grin reminding the condesa of a shark's grin as she moved towards her. "but wit' you moving fur'ter and fur'ter a-way from my watchfully eyes and da sea I t'aught you might be trying to…" Tia Dalma had somehow managed to move from in front of her blade to right next to her without her knowledge. Tia Dalma leaned so close the condesa could feel her breathe on her neck, and whispered in her ear. "forget."

The condesa couldn't move even to look at her. Despite hiding it like a soldier she was petrified. "How could I?" She stared straight ahead stone faced. "Not a day goes by where the thought doesn't plague my mind." she said bitterly

"Good" Tia Dalma glanced over at the little Spaniard then pressed her cheek next to the condesa's so she could see her exactly as she saw her. "I've been t'inking dat a growing chial' should grow up near de ocean, a house rit on de wat'a"

The contesa was now trembling she would sooner dance cheek to cheek with a great white shark than the demon she was next to now.

"Sea air does da body of a chial' good because if ya don't," She moved away now and the condesa felt compelled to look Tia Dalma in the eye. "I'll call in ya debt early." Tia Dalma slowly moved away from the condesa, a grim and foreboding smile on her face. In the blink of an eye she was next to the little Spaniard she kissed the top of her head. "Take care chial'."

The girl looked up and smiled. "Thank you for the gift."

Tia Dalma only smiled down at her, then she gave one last glance to the condesa. She pulled her hood over her head which was silken and looked like it was made from the hide of a great sea beast. She walked over to the balcony. Tia Dalma took a quick glance at the other pair of eyes that had been watching from the slightly open door. For a moment she locked eyes with a small black haired boy with dark eyes that shined golden due to a pair of small gold rimmed spectacles. The boy leered at her through the door. She only smiled then stepped onto the railing and leapt off.

The condesa ran over to the balcony and looked down, knowing it was too much to hope for that she had fallen to her death. She looked down nothing but green grass far below. The condesa fell to her knees one arm wrapped around the railing the other holding the sword and lying limply next to her.

'_What am I to do?'_ She thought franticly. Her initial plan to slowly, gradually move her child inland and away from Tia Dalma's power had been foiled. She was enraged and desolate at her helplessness to save her child's life. She stared at her reflection in the blade of her sword. '_there must be something I can do.'_ She leered at the sword gripping it tightly coming to a conclusion, though an uneasy one.

"mummie?" She heard her daughter's voice calling her. "mummie may I open the box now."

"Certainly dear." the condesa called weakly. She knew Tia Dalma wouldn't kill her now no matter what was in that box, what she had planned was far worse. She stood up her legs weak like a newborn horse as she walked to the side of her daughter's bed.

The wee Spaniard was looking confused down at the inside of the box.

"What is it?" the condesa said wearily.

"oh it's…it's just that I thought it would be more…uh," she glanced up at her mother once. "impressive"

"Well what is it that is so unimpressive?"

The little Spaniard raised her eyebrows reaching down into the box. "It's a doll." she said holding the small twig doll in hand.

"Let me see it" the condesa's tone was strange with fear bubbling to the surface.

The wee Spaniard handed the little twig doll to her mother.

Her mother held the doll in hand ready to faint from rage. She eyed it's little dreadlocks full of tiny beads, it's small mustache and beard, the red bandana, the hair was longer than she recalled and even the tiny painted features seemed older than she remembered, but there could be no doubt, not a doubt in her mind as to who the doll was meant to look like. Her fingers closed on the tiny stick abdomen of the doll beginning to crush some of the twigs.

The little Spaniard looked up in horror at her mother's hand crushing her new treasure, but her mother paid little mind. The contesa grit her teeth when reflecting at the source of all her plight that this little trinket represented. The danger her child's soul was now in, the pain and fear the contesa had felt that had caused her to flee the sea, was all the consequence of saving the life of one man.

'_Jack Sparrow'_

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	2. The Rumrunners

Author's 2 cents: This part of the story takes place before the first movie just after Jack is rescued after being mutinied on the island. This along with most of the story does contain some spoilers for movie 2. Pirates ye be warned!

Disclaimer: I'm a bit prettier than ol' Jerry Bruckheimer and the folks at Walt Disney Corp. so I don't own Jack or any of the characters from the movies but the made up ones in this story are all mine.

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Jack reluctantly put his hands up as did all of the rumrunners. Jack had to admit, if there was one cause he was willing to die for this was it. Who was he kidding? He didn't want to die to begin with! First being stranded on a microscopic little isle in the middle of nowhere by his two-timing, lowdown, no good traitorous, ex-first mate. And now to be arrested then timely executed along with his rescuers. It was good to know however, he could die nobly.

He turned to the young Italian man with blond hair and green eyes knelt next him as they were being cuffed. "I want you to know mate, I think what you do is a dignified service to humanity and it's an honor to die with you."

The young man sneered at him and spat in his direction. "_If it wasn't for you we wouldn't BE dying! You stupid fool, drinking all of our product and watering it down, it's no damn wonder our clients turned us in!_" He cursed at him in Italian.

Jack's brow furrowed and he made a comic pout as he stared at the man, offended. "Lovely language Italian," he went back to staring off into space.

"Well, well now isn't this a surprise." Jack heard the familiar voice coming from his right. He looked up and saw a familiar if unwelcome face.

"It seems we have a celebrity in our midst, gentlemen." Came a cool and viscous voice.

Jack grinned back. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Beckett."

Beckett knelt down before him with his navy jacket arm perched on his knee. "Nor you," his smile turned into a sneer as he stared at him. "I'll see to it that you and your loathsome kind are cleansed from the earth."

"Oh bloody hell" mumbled Jack. "I had really hoped you'd gotten over this 'pirates are the scum of the earth and they all must die' thing." He said slightly worrisome.

"Unfortunately for you Sparrow, no" Beckett hissed.

"You shouldn't hold onto grudges that way, mate not healthy." Jack rolled his eyes to look at him.

Beckett stood up and looked at his armed guards. "You know normally one would wait until we had reached shore to interrogate a prisoner," he shouted to them. "But being such an extraordinary case as young Mister Sparrow is--"

"Captain!" Jack interrupted.

Beckett leered at him, and some of the prisoners chuckled. Beckett however once again smiled. "oh I'm terribly sorry, Captain Sparrow, who might I add seems to be missing his ship," the crew of the East India Trading Company's vessel laughed at this one, and seemed to be in on a particularly cruel joke. Beckett again knelt down close to Jack and whispered low and venomously. "I think we can arrange something sooner." He stood up and signaled to two guards to take him to his interrogation.

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Jack sat tied to a chair in the hull of the ship. His tattooed arms were tied to the arms of the chair by the wrists and elbows with his forearms exposed. Dreadlocks swayed this way and that smacking the guards in the face as they struggled to tie him down. They wrapped the rope around his kicking boots to the legs of the chair, and wrapped rope three times around his chest that was minus one Captain's jacket as was his head missing his beloved Captain's hat. Once they were done Jack looked down to see the damage. He felt like a mummy though he didn't looked that bad, they weren't taking any chances with the infamous Sparrow however. Jack's gold teeth glinted in the corners of his mouth as he mused on the idea, The Infamous Captain Jack Sparrow. It wasn't so bad anyway he could still move his neck, true that was pretty much all he could move at this point, oh! and his fingers he could move those. He glanced past one of the guards to look at his jacket, pistol, sword, belt, and his beloved hat hanging in the corner.

With one final grunt from both the guard and Jack the guard pulled the knot tight on the rope around his chest. (So to recap) Jack had a rope wrapped three times around his chest to the back of the chair, a (thick) rope wrapped once around each boot to the legs of the chair, and his arms strapped by the elbows and wrists to the arms of the chair. Jack hopped up and down and rocked violently from side to side his hair smacking everything around him, the chair was nailed to the floor. Jack abruptly stopped and looked up at the guard to his right. "A little excessive wouldn't you say?"

The Guard was still doing nothing but staring straight ahead.

Jack made a face and took the moment to survey his surroundings. The room was opulent, no surprise there, but it was a pot burning in the corner along with several glistening objects Jack couldn't really see only he could tell they weren't jewels and gold that really caught his interest. Jack heard the door opening next to him as Beckett walked into the room.

Beckett looked down at Jack with the coldest, fiercest look Jack had ever received. Beckett's eyes turned to the guards. "Leave us." he commanded. The Guards nodded and left the room.

Beckett's eyes again fell on Jack.

Jack felt a cold chill go up and down his spine as he realized that he was slightly more comforted by the guards being in the room.

Beckett didn't say a word he just stared, then the corners of his mouth rose in a thin smile. He slowly turned and walked towards the pot in the corner.

Jack squirmed slightly in his binds. "I may not have mentioned this to you specifically, but I'm not into this sort of thing, and even if I was." He gave Beckett a snotty look as he walked towards him. "I still have my pride."

Beckett laughed bitterly as he held something behind his back. "Pirate's pride no doubt, worthless." He became silent as he looked at Jack whose whole body was tensed. "How did you find him, How did you find Davy Jones?" He hissed.

Jack seemed to relax with this news he was even getting some of his swagger back. "So that's why you sent the kids to bed." he gave a slight flick of his head in the direction the guards left.

"How did you find him?" Beckett said viscously again.

Jack looked at him with a faint but smug smile. "Any pirate can find him," he said lightheartedly his eyes looking up at the ceiling. "but _only_ a pirate can find him, so unless you're planning on switching to a new line of work--"

Beckett withdrew a branding iron with a 'P' at the end.

Jack became still, his dark lined eyes locked on the end of the branding iron as Beckett stalked around his chair.

"I'll do the next best thing then," Beckett said moving the iron within a few inches of Jacks right eye. "I'll make a pirate tell me where he is," He began to twirl the iron around as he spoke. "by any means necessary."

Jack drew in a breath. "Why do you want to know?"

Beckett looked at him a moment then slowly lowered the iron thankfully away from Jack's person. "I already told you, Jack." He leaned back on a table behind him holding the iron like a cane across his legs. "I will not rest until every pirate is wiped off the map."

Jack made a face that could have been mistaken for plain drunkenness given any other situation. "You'll develop insomnia, mate."

Beckett stepped forward with the branding iron aimed at Jack's face. Jack in a flurry of words managed to name a latitude and longitude number. Once again Beckett withdrew the iron. "There now," Beckett said with an evil smirk. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" Beckett called one of the guards back into the room telling him the same numbers he'd just been given.

Jack stared at the floor a shade paler. He'd bought himself some time at least.

The guard turned and walked back out yelling commands to the men steering the ship. Beckett again gave his full attention to Jack. "Thank you, Jack."

Jack made a face as he looked up at him. "You're welcome."

"You know," Beckett scratched under his chin musingly. "I really do hope that was the right location because if it isn't, well I doubt there would be anyone who'd shed tears for the loss of Jack, excuse me Captain Jack Sparrow."

"All of this because I sacked Nassau Port." He looked back up him. "You really do hold a grudge."

Beckett moved forward and slammed the end of the branding iron into Jack's forearm. Jack let out a yell that could be heard halfway across the ocean. Even the crew of the East India Trading Company's ship pitied him.

Jack grit his teeth, his arm shook with pain at the branding iron still being so viciously shoved into it. He let out another pained groan as Beckett leaned in close and whispered in his ear. "Don't simplify it so, _brother_."


	3. A Couple of Sea Turtles

Author's 2 cents: This is just a continuation from the last chapter with Jack still on the East India Trading Company's ship.

Disclaimer: I'm a bit prettier than ol' Jerry Bruckheimer and the folks at Walt Disney Corp. so I don't own Jack or any of the characters from the movies but the made up ones in this story are all mine.

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Deep in the hull Jack's head lulled, the pain was such that he drifted in and out of consciousness. The bubbling scar the branding iron had left was the least of his troubles. His arm would be terribly scarred no matter what, if he was lucky it would be usable. What did it matter if he could use his arms or not anyway? The ship was fast approaching the location he'd given, and when they found there was nothing there, that would be the end of him. It was a long way off though he'd figure something out before then, he hoped. The trouble was, between passing out and excruciating torture it was a bit difficult to tell how long they had been sailing.

The ship came to a sudden violent stop with a loud '_boom'_.

The noise shook the ship jingling the beads in Jack's hair. Jack's eyes shot open when he heard some very promising sounds.

"We've stopped! We must have hit a reef or some rocks!" "How could we hit rocks? We're in the middle of the bloody ocean!" "Sir, she won't budge."

Then came three more thunderous booms so close to gather they were almost simultaneous. Jack slowly lifted his head and began to bounce for all he was worth in the chair until at last the right leg of the chair broke. All of his noise went unnoticed due to the chaos going on outside, which was fine by Jack, they had bigger things to worry about. Jack stretched his leg to his hand and pulled a small knife out of his boot. He began to saw away at his binds. At last they broke, Jack scurried and scrambled to get the ropes off. He stood up the ropes still clinging to his arms he flailed them about as though the ropes were snakes that wouldn't let go. He crept towards the door and peered out. On deck everything was havoc, men ran back and forth frightened to death some of them, perfect. Jack ran over to his effects that were in a very unloving heap in the corner. He found his wonderful, beautiful hat, pistol, sword, and jacket. Unfortunately he was minus one very important item, his compass.

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Beckett sat at the dining table in his quarters eating a far better meal than was provided the rest of his crew when he felt a cold iron blade at his neck. He slowly rested his hands by the wrists on the table, silverware still in hand. Cautiously he swallowed the bite of food he'd been chewing. His eyes moved to look up at Jack though the rest of him remained rigidly still. "How did you escape?"

Jack's hat had been rightfully restored upon his brow and he smiled as he held the sword to Beckett's throat. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow." he leaned close to Beckett's ear as he had done to Jack. "Savvy?" He leaned his weight onto his back foot the sword still at Beckett's throat.

"Are you going to kill me?" Beckett swallowed hard despite doing so caused a small stream of blood to flow down his neck.

"Trust me, mate" Jack grinned. "I won't have to, so I just thought I'd pick up my effects and be on my way." Two more thunderous booms as though two large stones had just run into the side of the ship and stuck there. The glass of wine sitting on the table shook as did everything else.

Beckett smiled. "We're on a ship in the middle of the sea, but if you think you can get away go and be done with."

Jack smiled back but his smile was more knowing. "I'd love to really I would but you have one of my effects, one I happen to be very fond of, where is it?"

"I don't wha--" Beckett stopped when he felt the blade pressing closer to his neck. He sighed "It's over there in a drawer beneath the writing desk, the key is on a hook beside it."

Jack removed the sword from Beckett's neck, and gave a slight salute. He then swiftly moved to the drawer to retrieve his compass as he did Beckett was slowly pulling out a pistol from his coat pocket. Beckett stopped when he heard the sound of a pistol cocking he turned and saw Jack pointing his single shot pistol at him.

"Come on, mate. Do I have to say it again?"

Beckett sneered dropping the pistol to the floor.

Jack grinned and went back to his search "Oh, here we are." he said lifting up the compass. He walked over to Beckett and gave him a few good pats on the back. "A pleasure as always, Beckett." he said sarcastically before leaving.

Jack swiftly walked nearly skipping on the deck. To no surprise of his own no one noticed him as a series of thunderous booms struck the sides of the ship. Jack found it hard to keep his balance, more so than usual as he walked to the side of the ship and looked over. The booms came to a sudden and complete stop.

The sailors all stopped their running around some looking up at the sky others at one another, but inevitably all eyes turned to Jack.

Someone, though Jack couldn't tell who yelled out the obvious. "Sparrow's escaped!" Granted not the brightest but they were stupid sailors with swords and pistols. At once they all seemed to rush him.

Jack quickly drew his sword and jumped onto the railing. He swayed his arms in small circles to keep his balance.

So this was to be the end of Cap… The Infamous Captain Jack Sparrow.

"_Jack_"

To sell his soul to Davy Jones himself for the fastest ship in the seven seas. He'd found the location of the treasure of the Isla De Muerta. He had survived a mutiny, stranded on an island for three da… weeks in the burning sun. He'd bartered his way onto a rumrunner's ship. He'd been captured along with the crew. He'd escaped the brig…

"_Jack!_"

And bloody hell! If some voice from the ocean wasn't interrupting his life story. Wait.

Jack spun on his heel to look down at the water almost falling off the rail. His eyes widened though no other part of his anatomy reacted at all. "oh."

Two slimy sea turtles bobbed up from the salty sea one blue, one green.

Jack didn't need to guess who sent his two friends down below. "Tia Dalma" He looked half-mast.

"Tia Dalma" the turtles replied.

Well now that was unexpected. Jack arched a brow as he looked down. "Strange," he muttered to himself then shouted down to the turtles. "Turtle want a cracker?"

"We're not parrots you stupid bastard!" shouted the blue turtle in a nasally woman's voice.

Jack swayed a bit left wrist crooked fingers making a sort of 'okay' sign. "I beg your pardon," he said with a drunken slur. "It's not very often I speak to a couple of sea turtles." Jack felt a curious sailor nearing him, he raised the sword gently poking the air in front of the man's neck. "This is a private conversation mate, a little personal space please?"

"Who the hell is he talking to?" whispered one sailor to another.

The sailor (like the rest of the crew) was slowly backing away wondering why or what had driven Jack mad enough to talk to the ocean.

"So" Jack swayed his attention back to the turtles, gesturing the sword in little circles. "She sent you to… fetch me I suppose."

"'Rescue' is more the word." said the green turtle in a young man's voice.

"Just jump down and we'll take you to her." chimed the female turtle.

Jack winced and curled his fingers. He looked at the sailors, who were becoming bolder and slowly making their way to him. Then he looked down at the sea turtles. Normally he went by the ol' 'better the devil you know…' way out of these situations. Sadly, he was more frequently finding himself knowing both well enough not to take his chances with either. He bore his bottom teeth in distress. He sheathed his sword curling both hands towards his chest. There was clearly only one logical way to decide this potentially life threatening decision.

Jack casually tucked his left hand into his belt and pointed the other to the turtles. "Eeny" he said to himself then pointed to the sailors. "meeny," He gestured the hand back to the turtles. "miney," He was slowly about to point his hand back to the sailors.

Just then Beckett burst out of his quarters. "What the hell are you waiting for? Get him!" he yelled. As though lifting a spell, the sailors seemed to remember they greatly outnumbered Jack and began to dash toward him.

Jack pointed back at the turtles. "Moe!" He dove into the sea water below.

As Jack sank into the water, through the bubbles and salt he caught sight of the cause of all of the thundering booms. Jack Sparrow made a point of seeing the unbelievable, but even this was pushing the limits of his imagination. He gazed at what must have been a thousand large, brown sea turtles covering the water submerged parts of the ship like barnacles. The ship was completely unable to move because the turtles were actually lifting it out of the water just enough to make it impossible to steer. He felt what seemed like large stones rise up beneath him. He knew it was the two turtles he'd been conversing with earlier. Jack grabbed hold of the two turtles as they slowly lifted him to the surface and away from the ship.

Once they were above the brine Jack shook his head, heavy from the water soaked dreadlocks and gasped. He then glanced with one eye open back at the ship that had once sealed his doom.

The sailors ran to and fro on deck searching for an escape but it was clear there was none. Their fates were sealed, and Jack almost pitied the poor lads… almost.

Jack winced and wondered if he had not traded in an equally horrid fate from the one he'd seen as the ship was crushed and sank beneath the waves.


	4. The Giant The Count & The IronMaiden pt1

Author's 2 cents: This is a couple years after 'sea turtles'. All I can really say about it is that the Count is neither Jack nor the countess' husband.

Disclaimer: I'm a bit prettier than ol' Jerry Bruckheimer and the folks at Walt Disney Corp. so I don't own Jack or any of the characters from the movies but the made up ones in this story are all mine.

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The crew of the 'Virgin Queen' were done for, there could be no question. The moment the captain of the 'Virgin Queen' saw the massive sails of the 'Iron Maiden' he knew they were doomed. The ship was so named for a figurehead of a warrior woman wearing a Corinthian helmet holding a spear in repose made entirely of iron. All that was left as an option was to surrender and hope for mercy. The 'Iron Maiden' was a colossal ship said to be captained by a giant, and indeed she was. Captain Tim O'Conner stood a frightening seven and a half feet tall with bright red hair tied back with a piece of leather. The large Irishman was gregarious, well loved by his crew and feared by all others. He was almost as wide as he was tall with tree trunk legs that seemed to shake the whole of the 'Virgin Queen' when he stepped a board.

The crew of the merchant ship trembled at the sight of him as they lined up with pirate swords and pistols pointed in their direction. He tucked a meaty filth incrusted hand into the edge of a massive bronze belt buckle.

Captain O'Conner tipped the edge of his leather hat, that was desperately stretched around his head upwards to get a good look at his surroundings. "Well, what have we aboard this vessel, lads?" He bellowed in a deep timber voice with an Irish accent. He inspected the crew of the 'Virgin Queen' who were standing in line like men readied for a firing squad, all saved for one.

One of the pirates, an old scrawny man with only two rotting teeth left to him ran up to the captain. "She's a spice trader Cap'min."

"And…?" He asked raising a bushy red brow.

"Only eighteen reales, Sir." Said the scrawny sailor holding a hand full of silver coins.

O'Conner stared at the coins in the man's hand for a moment then he turn his reddening face to the captain of the 'Virgin Queen'. "Ye mean to tell me that there are no more than eighteen reales on your whole bloody ship!" O'Conner squeezed his face close to the captain's. It was freckled from the days he'd spent in the Caribbean sun, and red from rage.

"b-business has been slow for spice traders." Stammered the Captain.

Captain O'Conner was not a man to lose his temper and there was no reason to start now. He glanced at his crew who were looking at him awaiting orders. He took in a deep breath and sighed. "Boys," he bellowed jollily a wide Buddha smile spread wide across his face. "We'll just have to make due the ol' fashioned way." At once he grabbed the captain, lifted him up, spun him upside down and began shaking him like a rag doll.

The captain could only make a few whimpers as to his amazement he was being shaken up and down as though he weighted nothing by this grand behemoth of a man. A flurry of papers and coins and a flask fell from the captain.

"See now knew you be holdin' out on me Captain." O'Conner dropped the man who landed on his head onto the deck. Captain O'Conner again tucked his hand into his belt buckle as he barked orders to the rest of his crew. "Tie up the crew and search their pockets!"

The crew obeyed forcing the crew to their knees and tying them up.

One of Captain O'Conner's crew spotted a small young sailor sitting on a chair smoking a pipe near the taffrail of the ship. The sailor hadn't budged an inch since the whole thing began. The member of O'Conner's crew a tall muscular man with greasy light brown hair and a greasy dark brown beard walked up to the small young sailor pistol in hand.

"You! On yer feet!" Commanded the man with the greasy beard.

The young sailor's face was hidden by a black hat from nose up. He wasn't dressed like the others, his jacket was blue velvet, the kind only a noble could afford. The sailor thumbed the long metal pipe he was smoking and basically ignoring the man.

"Don't you hear me?" Said Greasy beard moving closer pointing his pistol.

Still no reaction.

The man was red in the face by now and he snatched the hat from the sailor's head and threw it to the ground.

Once the hat was gone the greasy bearded man beheld the most beautiful face he'd ever seen in all his life.

Angelic, was the only way to describe it, like a Rembrandt painting, (that is if the man had ever seen one that's probably the way he'd describe it). There was not a freckle nor a blemish upon its faintly bronzed perfection. The nose was still slightly childlike but in a couple of years it would be flawless and delicate looking. The lips were in repose heart-shaped and soft. The cheeks bones were well defined despite the bit of baby fat still lingering, but in a couple of years that would be perfect as well. The somewhat squared jaw, the shoulder-length black hair tied loosely with a bit of cloth, but most of all the eyes. They were remarkable dark eyes that shone like black pearls, and twinkled gold due to the tiny pill shaped golden rimmed spectacles the face wore.

"Mother's love…" was all the greasy bearded man could mutter.

The face looked down casually at the hat as though it had flown off on its own. Whatever the case it didn't seem to matter because the angel just went back to smoking the pipe and gazing off the side of the ship.

Finally when Greasy beard had all his senses back he turned excitedly and yelled. "Oy! They've got a woman onboard." Who needed silver and gold when there was a fine piece of treasure like this onboard.

The dark eyes flashed furious for an instant just before Greasy beard felt a bony bronzed fist hit his chin knocking him out cold.

The angel sneered down and then went back to silently sitting smoking the pipe.

Two other members of O'Conner's crew came running up swords and pistols ready. The men looked down at Greasy beard lying unconscious then up at the angel smoking a pipe in a blue velvet jacket.

"Com'on you!" one of them said as they hoisted the angel up by the arms. The pipe fell from the angel's lips as both men began to drag the pretty one away. To both their surprise the angel didn't put up a fight.

---------------------------------------------------

They dragged the angel in line and in binds with the others.

Captain O'Conner who was now sitting on a chair sipping some rum smuggled on board sat up when the angel was brought out. "Who's this now?" he asked.

"Gah!" said one of the men tied down with the rest of the 'Virgin Queen's crew. "Kill that one, thinks she's better than us," sneered the man craning his neck to look up at the angel and at Captain O'Conner. "look at'er has the brazen to wear men's clothing."

"Because I am a man ya bloomin' idiot!" hollered a very deep and husky voice with a heavy Spanish accent from the angel.

All men stood for a moment shocked. The 'Virgin Queen's crew felt startled partly because this was the first time any of them had heard the lass, or rather lad speak. But every man on board felt a wave of shock over take them because not for an instant had anyone expected a man's voice to come out of that little dove of a creature, never mind so deep and imposing a voice, _never mind _that this angel was in fact a young man.

There was a hush that fell over all the men, part from disgust, part from amazement, until at last O'Conner broke the silence.

Captain O'Conner let out a deep rich belly laugh, that give the impression that the whole ship was moving. He strode over to the lad still laughing. He had both hands tucked into his belt by the thumbs. He had already emptied and dropped the rum bottle, which had been weak as water to him. He knelt down still laughing in front of the boy. He rested one hand on his knee and grinned baring a gold tooth in the corner of his mouth among many rotting ones. "It be a good long time since I've had a good laugh such as that, lad." He reached with his hand which was as big as the lad's head, took him by the chin to get a better look at him.

Once the captain had inspected him enough he let go of his chin and smiled. He couldn't put his finger on it but there was something he liked about this boy, aside from the sheer beauty. There was something about that pretty face of his that reminded him of something familiar. "So my handsome friend," He almost began to go into a chuckling fit just saying it, remembering the fuss this boy had caused. "Ye gotta name?"

The lad looked up with a cheeky glint in his dark eyes. "I'm a count."

O'Conner's grin widened as he was about to laugh again. "Ah, I suspected as much judgin' by yer attire." he said tugging at the jacket.

O'Conner could faintly hear the mad whispers of some of his crew behind him. 'Iffen he's a count than we can ransom 'im', 'I still think she's bluffin it just be a girl in drag', 'A count's bound to have money some place'. It was then that the captain was struck by a very entertaining notion.

"Say then Count" he hadn't stopped grinning, all this was just too much fun. "What say you 'bout joinin' me crew?"

There was an audible gasp from some of his men, as they looked in O'Conner's direction.

The Count's dark brows lowered both sneeringly and worrisome. His shoulders slowly rose and his head sunk a bit into them. "As what?"

Captain O'Conner couldn't contain himself any longer. He let out another huge belly laugh. "Why as a pirate of course."

The Count made a scornful face that was both adorable and comical to the captain though he could see the Count meant it to be neither. "I'm not a bloody pirate."

The captain's eyes went half mast as he unsheathed his sword dropping the enormous weight of it down just a hair from the lad's nose. "What's that?" O'Conner asked.

The Count looked up and down the sword with laughably wide eyes. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. "I was just saying 'What luck that I, having always dreamed of becoming a pirate should be given such a grand opportunity.' I accept." he said flashing a bullshit smile.

O'Conner smiled knowingly having won the battle. He lifted up the massive sword. "Good." He began to turn around. "now then--"

Before he could finish the Count had kicked the legs out from the crewmen who had also been holding a sword close to him. The Count grabbed hold of the sword, cut his binds, swung around and cut the crewmen closes to him. Not enough to kill him, he just cut him enough to make his point. By now he'd caught the attention of the other men. He ran up to the stern pushing and slashing all the way.

All the while O'Conner had been watching with his lower lip pushed out appraisingly at the battle. He walked over to the chair he'd been sitting at, adjusting it so as to get a better view of the brawl. He then took out the flask that had once belonged to the captain of the 'Virgin Queen', and took a sip never once taking his eyes off of the delicate boned and very spry young Count.

Two rushed the Count, he leapt back fending them off easily, then two more took their place, rushing him, easy enough, but then three more and another on top of that. Finally the Count was fighting six men at once,(the first two he'd knocked out cold) all with little to no effort.

After he felt that his disobedient crew members had learned their lesson for attacking without his direct orders, Captain O'Conner stood up and walked towards the stern.

"Enough!" he commanded in an earth shaking bellow. "Since it has clearly escaped your comprehension, along with that of my crew," he gestured to his battered and beaten men who'd been fighting the Count with one hand and the other tucked into his belt. "Ye be on a bloody ship." He leaned his head downward slightly looking at the boy. "Where were you plannin' to go?"

"Honestly," the Count's eyes darted around then back at O'Conner. "I hadn't really thought that far ahead." he said his body bent, his sword in hand still ready for battle.

"I gathered that!" O'Conner said raising both bushy eyebrows. "Listen boy, ye either join me crew or die. Got that?"

The Count winced slightly. "But I don't want to be a pirate." He said almost whiningly.

"Well 'Wantin' ain't got nothing' to do with it. It's what a man can do, and what a man can't do." He pointed a warning finger in the Count's direction as he spoke. "Now Lad, I can try n' convince you to join me crew, but truth is I can't make you do it, or I can just run you through and throw you overboard--"

"I really doubt you could run _me_ through." Said the Count with the same cheek.

O'Conner almost began laughing again, never in his life had he met anyone so fearless and bold, especially with him. "Right then, I could break those spindles ye have for legs with my bare hands and toss you overboard."

The Count glanced down at his legs then looked back at O'Conner's hands and winced. "…yes… I believe you _could_ do that."

The Captain let out a short 'ha' "Indeed, but one thing I can't do is let you live and risk meeting the end of that fearsome blade of yours in the future."

The Count couldn't help but smile at the appeal to his ego.

"Now ye be a smart lad and I can make ye into a fine pirate. So ye know well enough you can die and I know ye can be a pirate. But the one thing ye can't do is go on livin' as ye been."

The Count's brow forrowed with this new bit of information.

"So can ye live as a pirate or can't you?"

The Count's slender arm that held the sword slowly withdrew as he sheathed the sword.

O'Conner grinned wide then he turned to his crew. "Right dogs! Collect whatever is left of value on this floating mess and make ready out ship."

"But, sir!" said one of the men who'd just had his ass handed to him by the frail looking boy. His hands and arms were a disarray of shallow cuts and slashes but nothing life threatening. The sailor wanted to ask 'Are you mad! Why not kill the blasted whelp?' but what came out was, "W-what should we do 'bout the crew?"

Captain O'Conner glanced at the trembling men awaiting their fate. O'Conner had never been a blood lusting man, he never needed to be. Men took one look at the 'Maiden' and him and there was seldom a cause for resistance. And this crew had surrendered outright. "Strip them of their effects and set them afloat in the lifeboats."

The crew of the 'Virgin Queen' looked up in horror.

"W'ot of the ship?"

O'Conner surveyed the 'Virgin Queen' one last time. "Seems like a bit of a shame to dispose of so fine a' vessel." He shrugged. "Sink'er"

Some of the crew scurried about to load the goods onto the 'Iron Maiden' others stripped the merchants of there valuables, clothes and what was left of their dignity and set them afloat in the life boats.

The Count watched all this with considerable amusement until he felt a huge meaty hand pluck him up and toss him wailing over the water and onto the deck of what was to become his home. The whelp went slewing across and onto the deck. He grunted rubbing his back as he stood up, some of the crew members laughing. He wasn't terribly concerned with the men's jeers, he was fascinated by the enormous creature he'd been thrown onto. The Ship seemed bigger than any he'd been on in his entire life. Great gray sails, the deck, and whole of the ship seemed too immense for it to say afloat and yet somehow it was. The Count had to stand rigid to keep from trembling.

He felt a large hand slap him on the back knocking the wind out of him.

"Beauty isn't she?" Said O'Conner looking about his grand ship.

"How's she stay afloat?" Coughed the Count, his voice made a little huskier by that pat.

O'Conner only looked down at the boy with a knowing smile.

Once all the men were aboard Captain O'Conner began his ascension to the helm. "Make ready the pikes!" he bellowed to the men.

"_The pikes?"_ thought the Count as all the men ran about. He heard a loud creaking noise coming from the sides of the ship. Slowly a little frightened he walked over to the side of the ship and looked over the rail.  
A series of rusty metal spears were being cranked out from the sides of the ship. The figurehead Iron Maiden who had been standing erect with the spear at her side mechanically extended the spear forward making ready for battle. Each horrific spike was at least ten feet long and there were forty on the right side alone.

One of the crew ran up to O'Conner. "Pikes ready, sir."

Though the Count hadn't really noticed it, all the remaining men on deck had either tied themselves down or were holding on to the ship for dear life.

"ye may want to hold onto something lad!" O'Conner yelled down to the Count. Before the Count could ask why the Captain gave the wheel a hard spin to the right.

The Count flew backwards as the ship went crashing into the 'Virgin Queen'. From the deck where he was lying, the Count heard a loud smashing and crunching sound. He climbed to his feet and looked over the side. What he was seeing was beyond belief and he now understood what the 'pikes' were for. It was as though the 'Virgin Queen' were being devoured as the ship crushed her into the sea. Moments later the 'Virgin Queen' was gone.

The Count slowly turned, still in awe to looked up at the Captain of this monster.

Captain O'Conner grinned wide the one gold tooth twinkling in the sun light. He took off his hat and held it in the air. "Welcome Count, to the 'Iron Maiden!"


	5. There's no such thing as Jack Sparrow

Author's 2 cents: Jack's back! I'm sorry for going a whole chapter without him. Also special thax to everyone who has read this far (I don't know how you did it but thax!) Also another minor note my brother has seen fit to tell me he hated the way I wrote Jack for this section. You'll see what I mean when you read it. Anyhow I usually don't ask for reviews but I'm curious if anyone agrees or disagrees with him on this(I'm hoping the later).

Disclaimer: I'm a bit prettier than ol' Jerry Bruckheimer and the folks at Walt Disney Corp. so I don't own Jack or any of the characters from the movies but the made up ones in this story are all mine.

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The crew of the Iron Maiden were contentedly drunk. Some of the men were snoozing on deck, others talking, but all without exception were drunk, and rightly so.

This had been the third raid in a row led by the young Spanish Count, as with all others it had been successful. This time they had robbed a ship filled not only with jewels and money onboard but a good deal of fine rum as well. This was, aside from swordplay one of the Count's areas of expertise.

Due to his status or rather former status he was well versed in which traveling ships carried the most wealthy of nobility.

It had been four years since he'd stowed away onto the 'Virgin Queen'. Four years, since (typical of his luck) that ship had been overtaken by pirates. Then he'd also charmed his way out death (also typical of his luck) to be plucked out by fate to join their crew. But four years was a long time for a pirate.

In that time he'd managed to go from the most hated member of the crew to the most beloved. This fact could have been because not a ship he'd recommended had less than a fortune on her. Perhaps however the most likely reason was because 'The Giant' Captain O'Conner had taken a shine to the boy as though he were his own son. Making a threat on the Count's life was just the same (and just as foolish) as making a threat on O'Conner's.

The Count never did develop a taste for the sea or pirate life for that matter. Captain O'Conner had been right as he always was however, the Count _was_ a good pirate. That wasn't saying very much to the Count's way of thinking, since he knew he could be among the best at anything, given enough time.

"Man overboard!" Yelled one of the drunken men slobbering over the side of the Iron Maiden.

No surprise; none of the men moved.

The drunken sailor got a better look at what or who was floating in the water. It was a who alright, in pirate garb floating on a piece of drift wood.

"Looks to be a pirate!" the man looked around, still not the faintest reaction from the crew.

"Quit botherin' us you drunk bastard." was the only response the man got.

The man hanging over the side of the ship rolled his eyes in frustration, then looked back down at the unconscious man. "mother of…" his cloudy eyes widened. He spun around. "It's Jack Sparrow!"

Not a man aboard could help but react to this news, saved for one.

Captain O'Conner emerged from his cabin curling his back to get through the doorway then back to his impressive height. His hat was gone from his head and so was his custom-made captain's jacket. He ran a hand over his wavy cloud of red hair. "What's all this now?" he moaned loudly still drunk.

Before the drunken man could say a word someone spoke up first. "Man's drunk off his ass" said a deep raspy voice, that had barely been used much in four years.

O'Conner looked over at the small pirate sitting in a darken corner near his cabin door.

"Everyone knows there's no such thing as Jack Sparrow." said the darken figure smoking a pipe.

O'Conner smiled wide at the small figure. "Is that a fact?"

O'Conner walked over to the side and looked over. "Look alive men and hop to!" he drummed his fingers on the rail as he stared down. "This is one story I wanna hear from the horse's mouth." he mumbled to himself.

The men staggered about to get the man aboard.

O'Conner walked back into his cabin but not before turning to the small figure. "Whoever this man is, can I have your word ye'll try not to kill'em once he's onboard?" he said sarcastically.

"I make no promises," the dark figure yawned. "but considering imaginary persons are difficult to kill the odds are slightly in his favor."

O'Conner just barely caught what was being said to him. It was tough to understand the voice normally because of the thick Spanish accent, but the drunk, slightly slurring Spanish accent was damn near impossible.

The men dragged the body up, which was limp and motionless and dropped it in the middle of the deck. They cluttered around the bizarre looking man with beaded dreadlocks and eyes rimmed in running kohl.

"Looks dead." said one

"Yep, looks like." said another.

"Iffen he is I'm takin' his hat." before he could so much as touch the hat however the strange fellow was up and staggering to his feet.

He withdrew his sword, his eyes darting around. He swayed to the left then to the right. Clearly he'd been in the sun too long. "Where am I?" he said his dark eyes still cloudy and searching for an exit.

"You're on a ship." Said a small dark eyed Spaniard stepping forward. The Baby Faced Count as he was now known (and known to kill anyone who called him baby faced) had grown as much as he ever would, 5'8 maybe 5'9 on a good day. His hair hung loosely around his shoulders.

"I thought as much but which one pray" The stranger knew when he was on a pirate's ship that wasn't the problem. The problem was he knew too many pirates, not all in a favorable manner. The man's clothes were still heavy from the water making it hard to move, or say, leap out of the way of a sword.

"Come on now, Count." implored one of the filthier looking men who had stepped back to make way for him. "You heard the cap'min. He said--"

"He said 'try not to kill him.'" rasped the Count never taking his eyes off of the stranger. He unsheathed his sword, a silvery cutlass with a squid shaped basket around the handle and emerald for eyes. "And I will _try._"

The man took a step back as he did he looked down as though the Maiden itself had given him a reminding poke in the legs. He looked down for a moment at the deck then looked up. He moved his weight from right foot to left then back again. He lifted his head thoughtfully his brows risen. "I know this boat." he said to himself. Just then a sword came towards him. He just barely managed to duck out of the way and counter it.

"That was very quick." Grinned the Count who even drunk was still one of the best swordsmen in the world. "Maybe it is true what they say."

"Really?" Said the man, dreadlocks jingling as he moved up the stairs towards the stern. "and what do _they _say?"

The Count began the advance up the stairs. "They say you are the Infamous Captain Jack Sparrow." He took another swing at the man who jumped back with a grin on his lips gold teeth twinkling.

"The… Infamous… Captain… Jack… Sparrow." the stranger's voice hung on every word musingly. "It sounds even better when said out loud." he countered back throwing the Count off guard. "So why exactly are you picking a fight with The Infamous Captain Jack Sparrow."

Their blades clashed together. To the stranger's shock the whelp was surprisingly strong.

"For one thing" grunted the Count in his Spanish rasp. "I don't think you are him." He stomped on the man's left foot.

The man groaned and hopped on his right foot for a moment holding his left then went back to the fight.

"And for another" The Count slowly advanced again. "It's a little known policy that around this ship no one gets on or off alive lest they are apart of the crew." His words just seemed like a series of purrs and sharp 'T's at times but the stranger managed to understand the point the boy was making.

"Well then by all means sign me up." The man flashed a sweet but con artist smile just as the Count slashed at him. The man ducked and leapt over the rail. He landed with a thud harder then usual because of the wetness of his clothes. He winced and rolled his eyes annoyed. His legs had become rubber from the fall and he didn't stagger now he tripped with bouts of what looked like walking.

The Count's keen dark eyes studied that leap with great concern. He stood for a moment sword still in hand with both of them resting on the rail. That leap may not have seemed like much to the others but the stranger had done it without even a glance which only meant one thing. This man had been on the Iron Maiden before.

In one quick fluid movement, the Count tossed his wiry body over the rail. He landed gracefully on the deck his expression had gone from arrogant to grim and suspicious.

The beaded haired stranger had been darting from side to side of the ship. True, he was on a bloody ship but perhaps if he could cut a lifeboat loose and row until his arms were sore he could get away.

All of the crew simply stepped back to let him through. None dared to interfere with the fight.

It took the soggy man three trips to both side of the ship to remember that the Maiden had not but one lifeboat attached to her and at her stern no less. There was not much point in the Iron Maiden having more than one lifeboat anyway, only one force in the world that could bring her down, and you certainly couldn't out run it in a rowboat.

Out of the corner of his black lined eye the stranger caught the Count slowly walking towards him sword at his side but still at the ready.

Even simply walking the Count possessed a grace that only came with years of relentless sword practice.

The stranger's body was tensed as the Count walked towards him. Suddenly the stranger who'd been inching his way towards a sword that one of the drunken crew had left lying about, grabbed hold of it and flung it at the Count.

The Count dodged the flying sword easy enough the foot that had been placed to trip him however was another story. The Count began to trip then rolled forward and was on his feet just as the man took a swing with his sword at his right hand. The Count just barely moved out of the way saving both his hand and his cutlass.

Despite the heavy weight of his clothes and his delirium from lack of food and water the stranger stood up straight. He tiptoed backwards away from the Count.

Strange, that move usually worked. "You're quite good." He said more as an accusation than a compliment. He lifted his chin with it's double braided beard with a suspicious look of his own.

The Count was holding his sword ready now. "Thank you, I know." He said somewhat indifferent to the statement, not once even during that daring move had the look of concerned suspicion left his angelic face.

The crew, who had made a semi circle around the fencers were now abuzz with chatter and taking bets. It was hardly common practice to take bets on one of the Count's fights, in fact it was down right stupid everyone knew who'd win. However if this really was _the_ Captain Jack Sparrow and judging by that move he was, there was no telling who could win.

"You seem distracted, lad." Both men were slowly circling each other.

"Who are you?" The Count said in a low rasp.

"Who are _you_?" The man asked back.

The Count's face remained unchanged. "I asked you first."

"So." was all that the stranger shot back.

The Count's lips curled into a slight smile. "They call me the Count."

The stranger's dark brows knit for a moment. "Why do they call you that?"

The Count once again clashed swords with the man. "You only get one, now answer my question. Who are you really?"

The man countered back with surprising strength. "Isn't obvious, lad?" he grinned again baring his gold teeth. He beat the Count back then took a step back for showmanship's sake. He extended his arms slightly. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

A few moments of silence ticked by, the man still holding the pose as though waiting for some gasps or maybe applause.

At long last the Count cleared his throat. "So… um… Captain," The Count's eye shifted as if looking for something. "where's your ship?"

The man's grin faded away completely but his teeth were still showing now in a pained wince. His arms lowered slightly dejected, then his darkly lined eyes widened and looked around a bit as though searching for an answer. "I was in the market," he finally lowered his hand keeping the sword ready for battle. "until that is I ran into a slight snag." he faintly gestured with his beaded head to the direction of the water.

"Well look on the bright side it could have been worse." Said the Count gingerly taking a step to the right. "You could have been hit in the face with a fore boom."

The man's eyes looked at the Count half-mast. "Believe me when I say this mate, it was worse."

"Oh, that's not true, look." The Count spun on his heel and cut a rope leading to one of the sails near the stranger.

The stranger had just enough time to look at the fore boom as it hit him in the face sending him on his back.

The Count was quick to kick the man's sword away and hold his own just at the man's throat.

The man was on his back with his treasured hat down over his eyes. "Count, that was an underhanded, deceitful and very unsportsmanlike move…" He shrugged. "well done." the stranger or rather the captain didn't move a muscle sensing the blade at his chin.

The Count looked down at the captain ignoring the groans of the men who'd lost the bet behind him. Slowly he moved the blade up tilting the dark stranger's hat back. Slowly the man's eyes came into view, giving the Count a chance to study them as he hadn't been able to before. It was like staring at a looking-glass, it was his own face staring back at him but not. The facial hair, the dark lined eyes were different, but that was his face, those were his dark eyes. '_Clever eyes d'at shined like black pearls.'_

The stranger looked up at the Count then around as though waiting for something. He noticed that something had clearly distracted the boy. He slowly began to inch his right hand over to his sword. "Something on your mind, boy?" Said the Captain still locking eyes with the Count.

The Count's eyes seemed cloudy beneath his golden spectacles, his whole body had become rigid. "I c-couldn't help but notice the captain's…" he choked out. His voice became low as though barely about to repeat the words that he'd over heard so long ago. "most remarkable dark eyes."

The captain's brow knit in a look of slight horror. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm flattered lad, truly if there was any man whom I'd consider the sodomy lifestyle with you'd be it, but my one and only love has always been," he reached his right hand finding the sword he kicked the Count's ankles out from under him. In a flash the man had the sword to the Count's throat. "the sea."

The Count looked up at him as though scarcely aware of what was going on.

The stranger's eyes again focused on the Count. Only now his brow knit with the same look he'd had when he thought he'd recognized the ship he was on.

A loud belly laugh came from the man's left, along with the loud cracks of two meaty hands clapping. "Aye, now that was a good performance." called the land mass that was stepping toward the stranger.

The man's black lined eyes squinted. "Tim?"

Captain O'Conner finished clapping his hands and characteristically tucked both by the thumbs into his belt. "One worthy of The… Infamous," he laughed a bit when he said it. "Captain Jack Sparrow."

The stranger grinned showing gold teeth. "Captain Tim O'Conner" he glanced about the ship then back to O'Conner. "I thought this ship felt like one great overcompensation."

O'Conner only laughed all the harder. He took a step closer glancing down at the Count who was anxiously awaiting the blade to be removed from his chin. O'Conner folded his arms looking back up at the stranger. "Are you going to be killin' me best fencer Jack?"

The man looked down as though he'd completely forgotten the Count was there. "Oh." he said gingerly as he sheathed his sword and extended a hand to help him up.

The Count stared at it for a moment slightly confused by the man's sudden change in mood before getting up on his own.

The man's still extended hand slowly shrank as he coiled it towards himself. He glanced at O'Conner who was staring down at both of them seemingly blank faced. "He started it." said the strange captain pointing a finger at the Count.

The Count's mouth dropped open. "Did not!"

O'Conner was still silent for a moment staring down at both men with a perplexed looked. As quick as it was there it faded and he became his good-natured self again. "Well the Count didn't skewer Jack," he said giving the Count a painful well-done pat on the shoulders. "And Jack… didn't get skewered, good all-round." He gave the stranger one good pat on the back, which unfortunately was the end of the man's strength and he fell forward unconscious.

O'Conner and the Count merely stared at this weird and threatening force that fell in a heap on the deck.


	6. Honesty's the best policy

Author's 2 cents: basically this just picks up from where the last chapter left off. And no for anyone still wondering the Count is _not_ a chick.

Disclaimer: I'm a bit prettier than ol' Jerry Bruckheimer and the folks at Walt Disney Corp. so I don't own Jack or any of the characters from the movies but the made up ones in this story are all mine.

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Jack recovered with surprising quickness, he was up and staggering in no time. And since he was up it seemed he'd done nothing but regale his fellow sailors with tales of his daring deeds.

"Did you really find the Isla De Mureta?"

"I heard you fought the mer-folk."

"I heard you fought Davy Jones himself."

"Tell us, tell us a'gin 'bout the one where you met Calypso, Goddess of the Sea."

And it went on and on like that, every sailor asking about this story, wanting him to prove this true or that false. Every sailor had a story to tell Jack Sparrow about himself, except one.

Sitting in the corner smoking his pipe away from the chatter of the other men was nothing new for the Count, far from it. It had been his sole habit since he was eight-years-old, even smoking the pipe which accounted for his very deep voice.

Every dinner party his mother had, any event he'd find a dark spot where no one could see or notice him, smoke his pipe and watch the world around him. It was different then though, he had watched because something innate in him knew this was a world he didn't belong to, he was only there on barrowed time. So he'd stand off and smoke, and it was while doing this when an anomalous and exotic woman with dreadlocks had come to visit his mother and sister.

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The small Count turned around when he saw the strange looking woman leap off the balcony. He nearly leapt out of his skin when that woman appeared right in front of him as he turned. He stared fearlessly up at the woman puffing away at his pipe. He curled his nose at the woman making his gold rimmed glasses rise up.

"Hello," said Tia Dalma sweetly smiling wide.

She was perfectly horrifying to the Count's way of thinking. Her teeth were rotting, her eyes seemed wild like an animal lined with thick kohl and small dots and symbols around them.

Tia Dalma knelt down to speak to the young Count. "and what might be ya name?"

The Count was silent as he looked up at her. "I didn't get anything." he then folded his arms and went back to sulking.

"Is it ya bit'day ta-day?" asked Tia Dalma in an innocent tone.

"Well… no," he made a face. "but it's not my baby sister's either and you gave her something."

Tia Dalma's smile grew wider. "_Is _d'at ya sister?" Her tone clearly indicated she knew that already.

"Listen," said the Count his eyes half-mast. "the coy act is getting old you going to give me something or what?"

Tia Dalma looked shocked for a moment but only a moment. She held up a finger in front of the boy's nose. "Wait." she said reaching into her cape. She reminded the Count of a sea serpent from the way she moved, to the hypnotic way she spoke.

"Perhaps I do have somet'ing for ya." Tia Dalma revealed a long metal box. She held it in front of the small boy and slowly opened it.

Inside the box was a beautiful sword with gold letters of a language the Count couldn't interpret engraved in the blade. The handle was silver and protected by a silver basket shaped like a great sea squid with eyes made of green emeralds.

The Count slowly reached for the sword entranced by it's beauty as his fingertips neared the edge of the box Tia Dalma slammed it shut. The small Count looked up in outrage. "It's mine isn't it?"

"Do ya be knowing how to use dis blade?" She said with her hand placed firmly over the top of the box.

The Count had to admit he didn't know the first thing about fencing. "I could learn."

"Well d'en when you learn I will give it to ya." she slowly stood up as she spoke to him. "When ya body be strong-a and you have more determination and cunning d'en and only d'en will I give it to ya."

"But how long will that take." asked the Count annoyed.

Tia Dalma looked thoughtful for a moment. "perhaps… ten years--"

"Ten years! Then I still get nothing?"

Tia Dalma smiled again knowingly. "No, not not'ing." Her wild eyes stared down at the small Count. "Would ya like to know how d'at story ended?"

The Count stared up at her his brow creased, as he took an approving puff of his smoking pipe.

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Jack sat grinning as he watched O'Conner slapping his knee with laughter.

"Sea turtles" O'Conner laughed wiping his eyes. He pointed a finger at Jack with one hand and grabbed a bottle of rum with the other. "and if it were anyone but you Jack--"

Jack reached out one wily hand and snatched the rum bottle of O'Conner's grasp. "T'won't work, mate." He looked at the large red haired man with his soft dark eyes still smiling.

O'Conner raised his head in mock defiance. "I don't know what yer prattling about." he reach out for the bottle but Jack held tight.

"Tryin' to get me drunk enough to tell you." his hat was gone, so was his jacket. Both sat at the far edge of the table, but not too far. The candle light was playing on the bottle of rum and on Jack's eyes. Jack's eyes seemed to shine gold, or was that just the same twinkle Jack had in his eyes when he knew leagues more than he was telling, as always.

"Besides," Jack was now the one holding up his head. His eyes were still locked on O'Conner narrowing with haughtiness. "we both know outta the two of us I'm the best at holding me rum." He held up the bottle like a magician. He brought the bottle to his lips and began to drink... and drink.

O'Conner watched Jack's throat, Adam's apple moving slightly. O'Conner was slowly becoming more amazed as the rum disappeared without a single pause for breath.

Having drained the bottle Jack then chucked it, empty over his shoulder. The bottle hit the floor shattering into a million pieces. Jack looked back at O'Conner smiling quite satisfied with his feat.

O'Conner, who though stunned didn't let it show, sat with his head resting on his hand. His eyes rotated between Jack and the broken remains of the bottle stopping at Jack. "yer cleanin' that up"

Jack looked humorously crestfallen.

O'Conner stood up and walked over to a wardrobe in the corner. He opened up the wardrobe and inside were shelves of rum, that only dead men dared to steal from.

Jack tapped his chin wondering how many bottles he could smuggle once they were ashore before O'Conner got wise to him.

O'Conner only grabbed one bottle and closed the wardrobe. He walked back over to the table that separated he and Jack and sat down. O'Conner placed the rum bottle between them at the center of the table.

Jack instantly perked up at the sight of the rum and seized the bottle, paying little mind that O'Conner made no play for it. The lovely was just at his lips when O'Conner's voice gave him pause.

"Who done it, Jack? Who took the Pearl from ye?" O'Conner looked at Jack his head seemed heavy and low. His face was a concerned one, the smirk he'd been wearing was completely gone.

Jack only grinned turning his head to him. "All done with foreplay then, eh? Gettin' right down to business." He let a moment just tick by while O'Conner just stared waiting for an answer that Jack wasn't going to give. But Tim was going to be stubborn, like always. "What makes you think somebody took her anyhow?" Jack began gulping down the rum.

" 'Cause if she'd sunk you'd have gone with her." O'Conner couldn't help but crack a small smile at that.

"I'm not that noble." Jack said pausing for only a moment from his rum guzzling.

O'Conner smirked again. "Maybe not mate, but no man gives his soul for a ship just to let the sea have'er."

Jack wasn't even going to dignify that one with a response. He just kept drinking profile to O'Conner.

"Was it Barbossa?"

Jack stopped drinking almost choking at the mention of _that_ name. He still had the bottle to his lips as he rolled one dark eye, the only one facing his fellow captain to look at O'Conner.

O'Conner just sat there looking at Jack with the same harsh concern.

Jack dropped the bottle from his lips and shoved it across the table towards O'Conner. "It's not very good rum." He lied.

O'Conner's eyes turned soft as he looked down almost lovingly at the bottle. "Sorry 'bout that, but it's all we got onboard. When I get a chance I'll have to plunder a rumrunner's ship."

"Don't bother mate, they only have watered down stuff anyway." Jack waved his hand casually.

If there was anyone Jack could trust in this world it was the man sitting across from him now, not that he was too keen to trust anyone these days. After all it wasn't everyday he met a man who'd also given his soul up for a ship. Jack had given his to Davy Jones for the Pearl, Tim had given his to Tia Dalma for the Maiden. Both ships were as alter-egos to the men to whom they belonged. The Black Pearl was lithe and quick, more than that, she was the fastest ship in the seven seas. The Iron Maiden was massive, strong, and near indestructible. The two men had formed a bond long ago each knowing where to find the other's sought after person. Both had been in a pretty bad way as well, having made enemies in rather high places. Jack needed a ship that was very fast, to outrun naval ships or oh say… a recently dumped voodoo priestess who would get over it in due time anyway so long as she didn't kill Jack before then. Tim needed a strong ship that was, bullet-proof, cannon-proof, and… Kraken-proof. Both men had given the other the information and wished each other a happy and long life expecting the other to be dead by the end of the week never to be seen again. Quite the contrary however, since they bumped into each other several times over the years. For having such a vast untouchable horizon the world was a surprisingly small place. It was in this way Jack had come to know Tim O'Conner so well. It was also in this way O'Conner came to know Hector Barbossa.

Jack began to drum his jeweled fingers in an odd rhythm on the table as he looked up at the ceiling. "News certainly does travel fast."

O'Conner's face had become stern. "Yeah, but even if it didn't he'd still be my first guess."

All of Jack's fingers stopped in the air for a moment then went back to tapping as he spoke. "Was it _that_ obvious, Tim?" Jack spoke the words evenly, too evenly. His eyes were glazed over still looking at the ceiling. His face was both serene and hateful. O'Conner couldn't guess what was going through Jack's mind at that moment, and he didn't want to. Jack thought of three things as he stared. Incidentally, they were the only three things that had really been on his mind since the mutiny, The Black Pearl, Barbossa, and the single shot pistol.

O'Conner gave his head a slight shake. "No" He picked up the bottle and took a swig. "But that be how men like him operate. Ye should'a done away with that one a long time ago, Jack yer much too soft."

"Your one to talk" Jack slurred, but Jack wasn't really drunk he just slurred everything. "Way I hear if a vessel surrenders quick enough you let the crew live." The roué gave his red bandana head a small shake. "That ain't piracy mate," his gold teeth sparkling in the candlelight. "That's knocking on your neighbor's door and askin' for a cup a' sugar." Jack reached for the bottle of rum and brought it to his lips.

"I send them a drift in life boats, naked, and sink their ship." O'Conner said mildly annoyed drumming his fingers.

Jack tipped the bottle upside down and gave it a few good shakes then pouted when he saw it was empty. A shrug was his only response to O'Conner statement.

O'Conner was becoming flustered now trying to redeem himself. "Most the time they die of starvation out at sea." he said quickly.

Jack had one eye open studying the inside of the bottle. "Still doesn't count." he said casually tossing yet another bottle over his shoulder. He slapped the table twice. "More rum." he commanded.

"Thought it waddn't no good?"

"It isn't" Jack said twisting one of the braids in his beard. "but it's still rum."

O'Conner rolled his eyes and walked over to the wardrobe. He was collecting the rum bottles when he felt something small and wiry near his leg. He looked down and saw Jack down on his hands and knees collecting three bottles of his own. "Jack…"

Jack innocently peered up at the giant bottles in hand.

"What the hell do you think yer doing?" O'Conner asked deadpanned.

"Well I am your guest am I not?" Jack said crawling away and standing up bottles in hand. "So I thought I'd just help myself. Savvy?"

O'Conner smiled broadly. "Ye be right Jack you are me guest." he shut the door to the wardrobe. "But if you help yourself to any more I'll tear your arms off." he said still beaming.

Jack winced his fingers curling as he looked at O'Conner. Slowly he handed one of the bottles back to him. O'Conner took it still smiling staring straight at him. Jack then begrudgingly gave him the second bottle suddenly remembering why he hadn't seen much of O'Conner in the past four years. The man was much too stingy with his rum and down right touchy when it came to others 'borrowing' it.

O'Conner nodded taking the bottle. "Thank you Jack."

Jack nose crinkled slightly. "you're welcome" He turned and began to walk back to his chair with the one bottle he was allowed.

O'Conner followed Jack speaking as he went. "Now as I was saying I think the reason Barbossa--"

"Oh bloody hell." Jack spun on his heel mid-hip swivel to look at O'Conner. "Still prattling on about that name, I thought we were done with that topic twenty pages ago." He spun completely around now and sauntered back to his seat. He sat down resting his boots on the table opening the bottle of rum. "So let us change the subject shall we? You were saying something about you and naked sailors, talk about that for a while." He said waving one limp-wristed hand at O'Conner in a shooing fashion.

"As I was saying!" he continued loudly suddenly remembering why their meetings were so brief. Jack was the most charming man in the world to be around, in small doses. "Barbossa was a talker an' ye can't trust a talker."

"But you're a talker and so am I, and we're both men of our word." Jack said with a devious little grin.

O'Conner smiled back. "Aye, that be true but we're captains an' that's different. Man on a ship ain't got nothing to talk about 'cept that ship and how it's run and who should run it. That's why a talker ain't no good to no captain." He took a drink of his rum and held it while pointing a finger. "'specially one as power hungry as Barbossa."

"'lot a good it does tellin' me now." Jack said gulping down some more rum.

O'Conner smiled devilishly which didn't go unnoticed by Jack.

"What?" He said doing the unthinkable and taking pause from his rum drinking.

O'Conner leaned in close compelling Jack to do the same. "I be more of a listener Jack, an' the way I heared it you got off that boat at the opportune moment."

Jack's eyes narrowed as O'Conner had at last caught his attention. "Do you be remembering the stories of The Isla de Muerta, and Cortes' gold?"

Well he had his attention for a whole moment at least. Jack leaned back looking at the rum bottle musingly. "Seems vaguely familiar."

"You be remembering how they promised a fate worse than death to anyone who so much as took one coin from that chest?"

Jack removed his boots from the table and leaned forward on his forearms. "Aye, but ain't ya too big to be believing such stories?"

O'Conner now leaned in as well. "I was 'too big' to believe in such stories when I was six, that's not the point."

"What is?" asked Jack growing impatient.

"There may be some truth to those tales."

Jack's brow creased. "Go on."

"I've heared tell they been seen about, Barbossa and his traitorous lot in pubs. But here's the thing Jack they don't drink nor eat when they there. Only staring at the other men dining as iffen they long but to taste the food but can't." he raised his red bushy brows for emphasis. "Same at the brothels."

Jack looked wide eyed. "You mean…"

"Aye don't not touch a hair on any of the women's heads" he raised his brows again. "or anything else for that matter. Only lookin' like they just wishing to."

"huh," said Jack eyes cast downward with that thoughtful twinkle in his eyes or it could have been the candlelight. "That's interesting."

"Thought that would cheer ye up." he downed the rest of his rum. "Like I always say a silent man's a loyal one."

"or a dead one." Jack offered.

O'Conner shrugged. "that too."

"Speaking of dead silent fellows where is my one time executioner?" Jack said glancing about realizing he hadn't seen the boy since he'd almost been sliced in half by him. Jack had felt a little put off the boy being the only one not hounding him to hear about his grand adventurous life.

"The Count? He's always about someplace," O'Conner smiled knowingly then raised his voice a little as he spoke "usually the darkest most depressin' spot on the whole ship."

Jack leaned his head back wondering for a moment why O'Conner had risen his voice so. "I've been meaning to ask about that. Why do they call him the Count?"

"Why don't you ask'em yerself," O'Conner leaned back and turned towards the door. "Care to join us, lad?"

The Count winced but slowly walked through the door. His black hair was pulled back and tied with a piece of cloth.

O'Conner pulled a chair and the Count took a seat next to him.

O'Conner lightly slapped his forehead. "Where be me manners Count this is Captain Jack Sparrow, Captain Sparrow this be the Count." he turned to the Count. "Jack be our guest on this voyage and should be treated as such."

"and have you also mentioned as guest I am to remain relatively hole free." Jack said anxiously rubbing the fingers of one hand together.

"aye, right, right don't kill Jack either." O'Conner said quickly waving his hand.

"Well that's going to make for a dull trip" said the Count with an arched brow. "no offense"

"None taken," Jack's eyes widened slightly looking faintly worried. He cleared his throat. "So are you, a count I mean?"

The Count's face went creaseless. "Once upon a time."

Jack's smiled his face kind and gentle. "Good to see you traded up."

The Count couldn't read the expression on Jack's face as Jack stared at him. It wasn't threatening or even lustful (as was the case with some of the lonelier pirates). Jack was staring at him as though he were staring through him. At long last he broke eye contact with the boy, to the Count's great relief.

"So" Jack said going back to drumming his fingers on the table. "You're a pirate…with glasses"

The Count's face went deadpan for a moment then he smiled a sarcastic smile Jack knew he recognized from somewhere. "Yes, but I seem to impale people just fine with them." He leaned back in his chair folding his hands. "And you're a Captain….in eye make-up."

Jack's body tensed irritated by the little jab. "Yes, but I seem to impale people just fine with it."

"Didn't want to be a pirate either." O'Conner said trying to change the subject before the two men impaled each other.

"Still don't." the Count glanced over at O'Conner, eyes half-mast leaning on his elbow.

"But now look at'em, finer pirate and scallywag than even I could have predicted." O'Conner said slapping a meaty hand to the Count's back, ignoring the comment or perhaps as a warning.

The Count's whole body lurched forward for a moment and coughed. He never looked or felt quite so diminutive as when he was in close contact with the giant O'Conner. "Thank ya, Tim." He wheezed one hand on his chest the other on the table to support himself. "You're too kind." he winced. "Well then Captain Sparrow how long are you planning to stay onboard?"

Jack grinned drinking the rum. "Just ichin' to throw me overboard, eh son?"

The Count smiled back with his own devilish glint to his eye. "Far from it. I think it would be very entertaining if you stayed a bit. It's not everyday a man shows up whose brave or stupid enough to steal from the giant's private stash."

Jack flashed a smug look while O'Conner chuckled. "caught all of that did you?" Jack said letting the bottle swing back and forth like a metronome in his hand.

The Count looked sweetly and innocently at Jack. "I'd wager I saw more that you'd like."

"Just what are you getting at?" Jack kept his cool smirking demeanor but the bottle had stopped swinging.

The Count glanced at O'Conner almost a little weary that he was there then he sighed. In a flash he unsheathed the kraken sword and stabbed at Jack's chest.

To only O'Conner's surprise the sword didn't go through Jack's chest but rather made a clinking sound as the sword hit glass.

Jack froze, eyes wide as O'Conner's reached over and pulled a small smuggled bottle of rum out of Jack's shirt. Jack was silently bidding farewell to his lovely, wonderful, beautiful arms.

The Count shrugged as though to say sorry to Jack. Jack stared at him with the same wide eye looked all the while contemplating how many ways he could leap over the table and kill the boy. However leaping over the table to kill the boy (though a really, really satisfying notion) would put him closer to O'Conner the last place in all the ocean he wanted to be right now.

O'Conner studied the bottle, then glanced at Jack, then at the Count, then Jack again and began to laugh. "What did I tell you." He laughed tossing the bottle to the Count who still didn't take his eyes off Jack as he caught it.

The Count smiled a cheeky grin as he opened the bottle and began to drink. "Just trying to keep you honest, Jack." He said softly.

That passively arrogant look now Jack _knew _he'd seen that before. He looked kindly back at the Count even if he was still plotting his demise. "Honesty don't agree with me, mate." Jack's eyes studied the boy taking in more than he let on.

Jack eyes were indeed remarkable he could deduce more from a single glance at someone than most people could after years knowing them. He concluded many things as his eyes quickly ran over the Count's person.

The boy wasn't lying when he said he was a noble he clearly had never been _born_ into the pirate life but it was equally hard to imagine him in a noble one. Not that the whelp was lacking aristocratic swagger, he had all the arrogance of a count, but the lad was hardly a prissy little fop. He was too rough around the edges maybe a general's son but not likely, his finger nails were slightly longer than they should have been and spotless.

Looking at the lad's hands Jack noticed he kept one lightly touching the sword at all times. He gazed quickly at it noting the magnificent craftsmanship. The silver squid basket was most amazing feature. He saw that around some of the tentacles were tiny skeletons. He pondered momentarily how much the emeralds would fetch on the market when it hit him. He had seen that sword somewhere before Tia Dalma's to be precise, he'd tried to steal it then too. So the boy knew Tia Dalma, that was certainly a twist. He thought on the emerald ring on his hand its fingers drumming, the ring that matched the sword. He made no real reaction to give away his thoughts. It had to have been given to the boy, because lets face it if Jack couldn't nab it from her no one could.

"Something on your mind Cap'min?" Said the Count eyeing Jack suspiciously.

"Hm?" Jack said innocently sipping his rum. "I was just admiring the sword that had almost cut my life short."

"You flatter me Jack," He said with a smug little grin on his face. "surely you don't think I could have done all that." His eyes still regarded Jack with suspicion.

Jack only shone his unreadable casual attitude. He gestured slightly with the rum bottle. "Mind then if we have a peek at said cutlass--"

"Tim, if it's all the same to you and our guest I'll turn in for the night." the boy gulped down the last of the rum before setting the bottle on the table. "Very good rum," He glanced at Jack once. "I don't know what you're talking about, Jack." He took an overly dramatic bow in the direction of O'Conner and Jack. "Gentlemen." he turned and walked out.

O'Conner sighed. "He's an odd one to be sure."

"Does he seem familiar to you?" Jack said half to himself half to O'Conner. Jack stared at the door long after the boy had left.

"He should, He's been on me crew going on four years now."

"No," Jack said again twisting his beard. "That's not what I mean, doesn't he remind you of someone?"

O'Conner ran a large hand over his hair. "I donno, I've never been any good with rememberin' faces." He wiped his mouth.

Tim was lying. Jack knew he was lying that wasn't the point, it was why he was lying that concerned Jack.

"So come now mate, let's hear it again. How you sacked Nassau without firing a shot."

Jack grinned. He'd let it slide, for now anyway. He could hardly deny a fan. "Well you see mate I'd been caught and tossed in jail…"


	7. Close Quarters

Authors 2 cents: Seems about time to update. The story is still basically in the same place timeline-wise anyway. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I'm a bit prettier than ol' Jerry Bruckheimer and the folks at Walt Disney Corp. so I don't own Jack or any of the characters from the movies but the made up ones in this story are all mine.

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Jack had about eleven days, that was the longest he could stand O'Conner's company and likewise. Two captains on one ship was unnatural; it tended to cause conflicts.

Don't misunderstand the two men liked each other well enough, even though Tim snored loud enough to rock the ship, Jack was forever trying to steal Tim's rum, money, and just about everything in sight, and Tim was… too bloody stingy with his rum. So yes about eleven days was the average before one shot the other.

It had happened once before, just once and Jack had said he was sorry. Oh sure, they got over it quick enough they went out for drinks later that night in fact, but that was hardly the point. The point was that Tim had almost shot Jack.

Eleven days was plenty of time before they got to Tortuga where Jack could finally round up a ship.

Jack stood behind O'Conner tapping his boot impatiently on the deck. He let out a bored sigh, one of many.

O'Conner didn't seem to notice as he stood silently at the wheel.

Jack looked at O'Conner's indifferent back and began to pace back and forth. He stopped and folded his arms staring at O'Conner's back. He began tapping his foot again. When he saw that was getting him no where he tried something else.

He twisted his beard with one hand and drummed air with the other. His dark eyes darted around as he thought. "Tired, mate?" He walked up beside O'Conner as though the deck were thin ice rather than wood.

"Not really." O'Conner replied not taking his eyes off the horizon.

Jack nodded his head slightly. He held his hands in a praying position shaking them in sync with his head. He began to turn and walk away then he spun back on his heel. "Because you know I'd be happy to--" he said with bejeweled praying fingers parting slightly.

"I'm fine, Jack." O'Conner said again seeming completely indifferent.

Jack slowly backed away his hands again in prayer position. He made a deflated face. He rolled his eyes to the sky, to the sea, then jealously at O'Conner holding the wheel.

Jack again began to pace, he stopped frustrated pulling out his spy glass and peering out to the ocean before them.

Now O'Conner was the one sighing. "There wadd't any sign of Tortuga when ye checked before, there idd't now, and there won't be any for four more days." he said gripping the wheel a little tighter irritated. "So put that stupid thing away."

Jack leered at O'Conner out of the corner of his darkly lined eye. He reluctantly place the spy glass back in his jacket. He paced again coming near the rail of the stern, and was tempted to kick it. Jack sighed again, although this time it was a mixture of a grunt as well. "Can't this damned ship go any faster?" he pivoted turning back to O'Conner.

"Aye Jack," O'Conner looked over at Jack, voice thick with sarcasm. "but I thought I'd slow down to watch the scenery."

Jack frowned folding his arms. "The Pearl'd never be this slow."

"Did I here ye makin' an unfavorable comparison about me ship Jack?" O'Conner's grip grew tighter his rotten bottom teeth bore in a grimacing smile.

Jack shrugged as he looked at his nails. "hardly a comparison."

O'Conner turned with only one hand though white knuckled clutching the wheel. "You dare to compare the Maiden to that little powder puff of a ship the Pearl?" He yelled.

"The Black Pearl," Jack raised his voice taking on every bit the commanding presence he would have had on his ship. He walked up and pointed a finger at O'Conner's chest glaring up at him. "Could swim circles around this boulder with a rutter!"

"The Iron Maiden could swallow down the Pearl an' still have room for dessert!" O'Conner screamed back. "'Sides she ain't _yer_ ship no more Jack."

Jack cocked his head to the right taking a regarding step back. He was getting really worked up now. "Can't say many good things about Barbossa, really I've tried, but one thing I can say is that the man has good taste," he rolled his eyes. "Unlike some people. Not hard to see why she's still yours who else'd want a piece of junk like this!"

O'Conner looked at Jack red as a beat. He grabbed the wheel and gave it a hard turn to the left, that only Captain O'Conner could.

Jack as well as a good deal of the crew went flying to the right.

O'Conner marched over to Jack grabbed him by the jacket and hoisted him in the air.

Jack's feet dangled in the air as he gripped O'Conner's wrists to maintain balance. A faint glimmer of fear crept into Jack, surprisingly small given the situation. This was different Jack was too angry to be completely scared. No one, but no one talked about his girl like that.

O'Conner's face was redder than before if possible as he brought Jack close. "Let's get one thing straight mate," he hissed low now holding Jack up with one hand the other pointing a finger in his face. "I pulled ye from the salty brine and I can toss ye back, and I will ye say another word against the ship that saved your own worthless hide." He tossed Jack hard onto the deck.

Jack groaned loudly rubbing his back. Both he and O'Conner leered at each other before O'Conner went back to steering the ship and Jack stood up and straighten his jacket.

It was only four days in, maybe eleven day was being too generous.

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Later that evening, Jack sat at the small rickety table along with two very foolish men and the Count.

Much as he hated to admit it, the whelp was beginning to grow on Jack. True he was growing on him like a scab or fungus, but he was proving to be a detestably likable fellow.

The lad sat across from Jack black eyes cast down at his cards while he puffed at that pipe.

All four men's hands shot out to the right to catch their rum bottles as the ship swayed. Their eyes never left their cards or one another as they put their bottles back on the table.

The Count thumbed the pipe, eyes occasionally resting on Jack as though trying to read him. Jack wasn't worried about being read. He looked calmly back at the Count and smiled.

Jack eyed the other men. "Right lads, now's the moment of truth." Slowly the men began to reveal their hands.

The man to Jack's right was first. Greasy beard as it turned out, older still filthy and still a little love sick and confused about the Count. The dirt corroded man tossed his cards forward onto the small mound of coin.

"pfft." said Greasy beard. "Nothin'" He stood up knocking down his chair grabbed his rum walking away mumbling. "I donno why I even bother to play with you stupid sons-of…"

The Count's eyes watched the man thoroughly amused. He turned his attention back to the others. "One down." he said puffing a small hoop of smoke.

"That's a pretty cocky statement," Jack delicately rearranging his cards in his hand. He pretended to give it his full attention, as though the boy were an afterthought. "for a whelp such as yourself."

The Count smiled as he gnawed on the edge of the pipe as he did when bored Jack deduced. He lay his cards on the table face down and gripped his pipe tight with his hand. "What you hiding Jack?" He said gesturing with his black eyes to the cards that, like Jack's now glittered golden in the candle light.

Jack caught a double meaning in that statement. The candle light danced off of his beads in step with the light in his eyes. He grinned leaning forward, his gold teeth now joining the dance of light. "Not a bloody thing, son." His eyes seemed lined in black wax, both angelic and demonic, like a devil from heaven or an angel from hell.

The glint left the Count's eyes for a moment and not even the light that danced on his golden rimmed spectacles seemed about to bring it back.

For a moment this greatly troubled Jack, the lad was hiding something, aside from four aces up his sleeve.

In a flash the light was back and the Count turned to the man sitting to Jack's left. "So George," He said in a jolly tone. This was especially odd to Jack because the card game had been the first interaction he'd seen the boy have with any of the crew. "quit stalling and lose already." The Count rasped low in his Spanish drawl.

The man's wrinkled face became more so as he smiled. "Not this time Count." He lay his cards flat on the table. "pair a' queens"

The Count went ashen before Jack spoke up.

"Sorry mate, not good enough." Jack said stopping the man's arms that reached for the gold. "full house." He said laying his cards flat as well. But Jack didn't reach for the gold he leaned on his right forearm and stared intensely with a casually smile at the Count.

All three men reached to the left to catch their rum bottles as they slid.

Jack gestured with a nod to the Count's hand. "and you lad?"

"nothing," he said quickly turning his cards face down. Jack grabbed his hand with such quickness and strength it unnerved him.

"Don't be so modest, mate." Jack said sweetly forcing the Count's hand face up. Jack looked down with an unreadable but knowing face as he looked at the Count's royal flush. "My now would you look at that." said Jack softly his eyes moving slowly between the cards and the Count.

At once he let got of the boy's hand and began to lean back in his chair. "Looks like you win." Jack grinned again as he leaned back in his seat sipping his rum.

"Looks like." was all the Count said as he leered at Jack. He made no effort to grab the gold as Jack gazed into his eyes. The game appeared to have become a chess game or staring contest rather than a game of cards.

George grumbled disgusted to himself. "What's a bloody count need with money when he be on a pirate ship anyhow." he sat drumming his finger angrily.

Finally the Count broke eye contact with Jack glancing over at George in his jolly tone, though it was clear to Jack he was anything but. "You're right George." He said slapping the table happily. In fact he was slapping out of frustration, Jack knew frustration when he saw it, he did cause a good deal of it. The Count then got up and began to walk over to a predictably dark corner with his pipe.

Jack watched him until he heard the coins on the table moving. Without looking Jack slapped George's hand that was touching the gold. Jack looked over at him and smiled waving his cards. "I still beat your hand, mate." Jack pulled a small pouch from his sash and scooped the gold into it trying it tight before he put it away. "And I'm not as generous as some people."

That was another thing Jack both liked and disliked about the Count. He was a better cheat than he was, but that would be a quality he'd admire in himself more than other people. The boy was better than he was at his age, for a moment Jack even considered some ways he could exploit this talent, but not taking hard earned coin was hardly admirable in Jack's book.

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"No point in cheatin' mate, if you're not going to take the prize"

The Count heard Jack's voice ask from beside him. He looked up at Jack tapping his pipe on his boot. "If you saw me cheat why didn't you say anything?" He smiled up at Jack.

"I could have," Jack's eyes rolled around thoughtfully as he stood swaying. "But then I would have had to admit you were cheating better than me." He looked down again and grinned. "an' I can't let an absurd rumor like that get 'round can I?"

He was like something out of a dream, so strange and surreal. The beaded dreadlocks the way he moved and spoke, it was all a feast for the senses. Jack Sparrow was like something out of a dream or a story told by a voodoo priestess.

The Count didn't care about the bloody card game. He'd only joined in for the same reason he'd both kept a safe distance and a sharp eye on Sparrow. It was one long double-take, the same as if Hansel and Gretel had just been belched up on deck. How was he supposed to believe what had only been a fairy tale until now, albeit a fairy tale with many eerie similarities to his own life but still a fairy tale.

He'd drilled that thought into his head over and over again as he'd watched him. Yet here he stood, the gold teeth, the name, voice, the sword fighting all as he'd imagined and the eyes, the eyes like black pearl-- this was stupid!

The Count's thoughts were interrupted by a deep slightly slurring voice. "Who taught you to fight like that." Jack asked now sitting next to him. It seemed like an attempt to put Jack more on the Count's level. Sparrow probably didn't realize it but he exuded a superiority at all times that nothing to due with height.

Jack sat close now, so close the Count could smell his breath. It seemed a mixture of rum, musk and the general scent of death all pirate mouths have. The man also had no sense of personal space, no pirate sat so near without risking death. Look at him though inspecting with his head slightly upturned his eyes narrowing.

It was as though the Count were a bloody mule at auction. It was driving him mad, _he_ was driving him mad, _everything_ about this damned situation was driving him mad. A Count forced to be a pirate talking to a man who didn't exist, who _couldn't_ exist. And he vaguely recalled being asked a question of some kind a moment ago.

"What's that?" The Count's face was serene and stony as it always was, but he couldn't help but wonder if Jack had the slightest idea the havoc that was going on in his mind. "Why so interested cap'min?"

"Don't mean to pry." Jack lied holding up his hands in surrender. Jack assumed he said 'why so interested cap'min', either that or 'why those intestines happen'. It was a bit hard to understand the boy. "It's not everyday someone comes close to killin' me."

The Count stared expressionless for a moment as he look at Jack.

Jack's eyes darted around for a second. "Well, not so close anyway."

The Count noticed Jack's eyes drift again to look at the Kraken sword. The fingers of his left hand began to cramp as he touched the sword. The sword was humming. The Count had always assumed that he was the only one who could hear the Kraken speak. Then again this, was The Infamous Captain Jack Sparrow, maybe he could hear it too.

"I'm entitled to one question is that right?" Again the raspy slurring voice of Jack Sparrow summoned the Count back to reality.

The Count's bony hand grasped tightly around the handle of the blade in a vain attempt to still the thing. His dark eyes and the tiny gold spectacles on them turned back to Jack. "You're entitled to whatever you please, doesn't mean I'll answer your question."

Jack straightened up beaming at the Count. "Good!" Apparently this was just as good as saying 'yes, oh please, please ask away I'll answer anything!'. His face then took on that look, that look that was driving the Count mad, or madder than everything else. It was the same look Tim O'Conner had made when he first offered him a place on his crew, the same one Jack had when he had walked in on Tim and he speaking. It was the same look his mother gave him between the grueling fencing lessons.

"Was it a woman who taught you the sword?" Jack looked at him, black eyes flickering golden as he tilted his head back.

Several moments of silence ticked by. Jack seemed undaunted by the Count's pause.

The Count thought long before he answered. He studied Jack very carefully, all the while paying close attention to the Kraken sword's hum. "Yes…" he drummed his fingers on the hilt. "Though I doubt the one you're thinking."

"Same who gave you that sword?" Jack's dirty bejeweled hand went up to his lips in mocking shock. "Oh, wait that was two questions. You gonna run us through then?"

The Count grinned despite himself. Jack was clearly a master at disarming others. Normally that would put the Count on edge, and he would mentally prepare to kill him soon. Charming pirates were the most dangerous of all, they always had something to hide, usually a weapon of some kind.

While he couldn't deny that Jack was hiding one or six things he didn't think Jack wanted to kill him. In fact, he knew Jack didn't want to kill him, he _knew_ somehow that the last thing Jack wanted to do was to kill _anyone_.

The Count never exactly thrilled about killing men either, but when one's life is threatened or one is very, very drunk one can hardly be blamed. Jack was different, there was an almost squeamishness about the subject. One thing was for certain Jack would have to hate someone to kill them with his own hand.

After another moment of thought the dark haired lad unsheathed the cutlass for Jack to see. The second he did the sword became still. He delicately handed it to Jack.

Jack grabbed it carelessly flipping it in the air and catching it by the hilt. He nodded and stood up. Jack leapt forward making a few slashes at the air. His head turned to the right then to the left inspecting it. He shrugged and tossed it up again so that the handle was facing the Count. "She's alright."

"Alright." The Count gently scoffed still sitting on the floor. He reached up to grab the sword back. "Can you not recognize heaven in the form of a blade when you see it?"

Jack waved off the Count's words still holding the sword. "oh, I'm not saying she isn't all well and good but she's hardly--hello?" Jack pulled the sword back staring at the blade and the gold writing. His brow furrowed as he studied it. "Huh…" He now had both hands on the sword eyeing it with the same care the Count had been using.

The Count finally found a reason to stand up. "Can you read that?"

Jack's black rimmed eyes moved from the blade to the dainty boy standing beside him. His brow creased even further and he made an odd thoughtful pout. He turned to the boy with a very serious look on his face. He stepped uncomfortably close so that their noses were nearly touching. "Can you read lad?" he asked in a very stern tone.

The Count sighed and rolled his eyes. "Of course I can read, I'm a bloody count. I can read in four different languages if I so desire."

Jack still stared at the Count deadly serious. "But are ye familiar with The Language of The Sea?"

The Count opened his mouth once then closed it. "Well… no I didn't know there was such a thing."

"Ah," Jack nodded solemnly looking down at his feet. "I see, I see…" He looked up at the lad again beaming. "Nope, can't read a word, mate." He tossed the sword in the air and meandered away.

The Count just stared at him as he walked away. He caught the sword by the hilt as though the sword had summoned his hand. His eyes never left Jack all the while.

He held up the sword studying the letters.


	8. A Gift

Author's 2 cents: wow I haven't updated in awhile, sorry everyone. This chapter fills in the blanks in Tia Dalma's story. (or as much as they'll be filled)

Disclaimer: I'm a bit prettier than ol' Jerry Bruckheimer and the folks at Walt Disney Corp. so I don't own Jack or any of the characters from the movies but the made up ones in this story are all mine.

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"Where did you say you found the whelp?" Jack asked the next day tapping on the rail of the stern.

"On a spice trader." O'Conner said holding the wheel.

Jack eyed the dainty boy skeptically as he slashed and stabbed at air, down on deck below. "Did he have that sword before or after?"

"Jack," O'Conner said turning to him one hand still at the helm. "What's really on yer mind?"

Jack's eyes shifted from the boy to O'Conner. "You trust the lad?" he asked in a low ominous voice.

O'Conner's face became serious and he turned his gaze forward but looked down at the Count.

The Count looked small, smaller than usually as he leapt about.

"Oy! Count!" Said one of the men struggling with a rope. "do some real work for once!"

"Do it yourself, you lazy bastard!" He yelled back just before sheathing his sword and helping the man pull the rope.

O'Conner's voice was low as he spoke. "I don't trust an'y man, Jack. Ye know that."

Jack's eyes stayed locked on O'Conner. His dirty and jeweled fingers drummed. "But you _are_ attached to the whelp eh?"

"As though he were me own son."

Jack was silent for a moment; his eyes went half-mast. Then he looked down and to the right. "ah-huh"

O'Conner squinted at the fading light on the horizon. "Night's coming best drop anchor." He lean forward and cupped a hand around his mouth. "Make ready to drop anchor!" he yelled down to the men.

"Bit early." Jack noted as O'Conner began to walk away from the helm and down the stairs.

O'Conner turned back to Jack. "Aye, but we be only a day away from Tortuga," Tim grinned. "an' it wouldn't be fittin' if we didn't give The Infamous Captain Jack Sparrow a proper send off."

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'Send off' as it turned out was actually just a nice way of saying 'excuse to get drunk.'

One man with dirty blonde hair and no teeth sat on a barrel tapping his foot and slapping the barrel in beat. Another a man with black and grey dreadlocks and an exotic tattoo on his face leapt about playing the accordion.

O'Conner was the center of it all playing his fiddle which was more like a small guitar than a large violin.

Two men swung each other around dancing and showering everyone around them with rum that spilled from their cups. Finally the men got too dizzy, one falling down the other went sailing over a table.

All of the men laughed, some were playing cards Greasy beard was one of them (to no one's surprise).

Jack held his forth…fifth…fourteenth… something with a 'pff' at the beginning, bottle of rum. He was waving his hand limply at O'Conner and shaking his rum bottle with the other. "This is cruel and inhumane torture mate!" he slurred. "It's _my_ bloody send off can't you even try to play somethin' on key?"

O'Conner laughed continuing to play the beautiful and jaunty tune. "Aye Jack, waddn't gonna kill ya, but now ye be shark bait."

Jack jerked his head back unimpressed, nearly rolling off his chair. "Fine then feed me to the sharks, 'least they can play a decent tune on that thing."

"Maybe so, but ye can't hear it underwater." Shouted Tim.

"Crying shame too, there's a great lack of fish musicians." Jack heard Tim laugh as he turned and saw the Count sitting in a solitary corner away from the music.

The Count seemed mellowed staring fondly at the group of men making fools of themselves. His black hair was untied hanging around his shoulders making him truly look like a young girl in drag. He was holding a nearly empty bottle of rum, or more or less coddling it as though it were a babe. His face seemed genuinely serene as his glazed over eyes looked on.

Jack stumbled over to the Count tripping and falling into a sitting position beside him. "Not a party unless everyone joins in the festivities."

The Count stared blankly, glassy eyed at Jack.

Jack paused for a moment then he continued. "Look," he gave a limp-wristed wave towards the group. "we've even set up a pathetic little dark spot just for you."

The Count's face remained unchanged glazed over and confused. Then he smiled a little. He slurred his Spanish drawl something to the effect of 'you are funny Jack' or 'you are bunny Jack'. Whatever, Jack heard his name someplace in there.

Oh, the kid was blasted alright. Jack noticed that the Count's eyes were locked on his right hand.

The Count reached out and grasp the silver emerald ring with his two fingers. He began tugging at it gently at first but then he began yanking at it. It seemed as though he had completely forgotten Jack was still attached to it.

Jack finally stopped him. "Here, mate." He twisted the ring removing it from his hand and holding it up for the boy to see.

The boy's brow creased in both confusion and fascination as he stared almost cross eyed at the trinket. He pulled Jack's hand with the ring closer inspecting the ring. Slowly he took it from Jack holding it up studying every detail, the emerald jewel, the tiny skulls. "It's very lovely." he said at last.

"Yeah." said Jack smiling softly. "T'weren't no easy feat gettin' my hands on this trinket either."

"I'm the only one who hasn't asked to hear a story about you, isn't that right Jack?" The Count said handing the ring back to him.

"Really? I hadn't noticed." Jack lied putting the ring back on his index finger.

The Count looked at the ring fondly for a moment then at Jack. "I first heard about you when I was eight years old."

Jack's jaw tightened slightly. He didn't like feeling old, he wasn't but the comment made him feel like it.

The Count looked down musingly at his rum bottle as he tapped it. "It's no wonder I couldn't believe you were real. The stories I heard about you were so outrageous."

Jack smiled looking at his nails. His eyes lingered for a moment on the same ring. "Does no bit a good to be a skeptic, mate. You'd be amazed to know how often fiction seems more real than fact in this world."

"There is one story I like best of all," The Count's smile slowly faded. "It's the first I ever heard in fact. Perhaps you can authenticate it for me. Would you like to hear it?"

Jack gestured with his arms as if to say 'lead the way'.

"Once upon a time, there lived a boy name Jack Sparrow, who wandered the seven seas. His hair was dark as night, and his eyes were the most remarkable dark eyes, that shined like black pearls. This boy became a pirate. Soon he found himself working for a wealthy count as a servant. What the count didn't know was that Jack was biding his time until he could find out where the count hid a ring stolen from a voodoo princess. But what Jack didn't know was that the countess, the wife of the count had been watching Jack and knew he wanted the ring. So when he stole the ring and is ready to make his daring escape he sees the countess with a sword ready to slit his throat. They fight until the countess has Jack against a wall, and then she pierced his heart." The Count wasn't slurring, he still had his thick Spanish accent but every word was unmistakable.

Jack's eyes widened and he sat up straight. Even through his drunkenness he was quickly deciding he didn't like this story.

"But the countess was foolish for she did not realize her heart had been pierced as well.

They fall in love, but their love affair is soon found out by the count who was quick to do away with Jack." The Count never once looked Jack in the eye as he spoke. His face wasn't sentimental and he didn't slobber the words he spoke matter-of-factly as though he were telling a fairy tale.

"Clever as Jack was, love made him careless. As he ran from the count's guards who fired a hail of bullets at our hero, one of the pursuing bullets found him. The little iron stone connected with his heart piercing it for real.

Jack lay dead on the ground." Now the Count looked at Jack his face still blank and glazed over. But there was something else, there was a seriousness as though he were inspecting Jack to see if he were truly alive.

Jack's stomach was wound into a tight knot. This was his least favorite story, and he had been in some awful ones. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to bolt away and get drunk, drunker still. Until he could never remember this story no matter who or how many times someone told him. He didn't want to remember he already knew how it ended.

Jack smiled nervously. "I think you've had too much to drink, mate."

The Count looked at the bottle. "I am fine Captain. I was just about to get to the arch of the story." The Count's voice was even, perhaps almost light. But he glanced at Jack as though a great tsunami were coming,brace yourself, you may survive but you can't run.

Jack's dark and flickering eyes stared at the boy with a rare hardness to them. "It's my least favorite part of the story." he said coldly, staring at the Count with a warning of his own. Turn back while you can, boy.

The Count's head shot back to look at Jack his eyes fiery. He gave the same look. "Strange, mine as well." Their black eyes locked.

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"Dead" said one of the men tossing the body back down in the sand.

"One less pirate in the world." said the other kicking sand at the dark haired body.

The countess heard the men leaving from beneath the bridge where she hid. Tears streamed down her face, liars, fools! He wasn't dead! She heard the sounds of the men at last mounting their horses and leaving.

Amelia ran down to the beach, illuminated by moon light. She stumbled and fell as she ran. No it couldn't be, that body was someone else's anyone else's but not Jack's body.

She ran falling beside Jack's body lying face down in the sand.

The right arm was extended up, the left at the side, the face half in the sand, the lovely eyes closed.

Her fingers trembled as they neared his blood soaked back. It was a joke, a trick, Jack was faking dead. He couldn't be dead. "…Jack?" She whispered as her delicate fingers touched his body, which was ice cold.

She let out a cry and fell onto his body. Her hair became soaked in the salt water that lapped at her and her dead beloved. She sat up both her body and his drenched. Her small hands came to her lips as she looked down at his face. It was so perfect and serene he seemed like an angel. The countess squeezed her eyes shut, she could still feel the waves lightly pulling at her clothing and his as though trying to pull him back to the sea. He was meant to be there.

Amelia opened her eyes and they grew wide as she saw a creature emerging from the sea.

Out of the sea water itself formed a beautiful woman with dreadlocks and wild eyes. She wore a dress made of the water.

The countess leaned back with a trembling hand to her lips. "…Calypso" she said in awe. She'd known of Calypso, and kept that fact secret. The same as she had kept secret from her husband that she was a better swordsman than he, and that she was in love with a pirate.

The being seemed indifferent to Amelia's presence as she slowly knelt down next to Jack's body. Gently she turned him over him cradling him. He looked strangely innocent in her arms like a child. "Poor Jack," said the woman in a voice silken and beautiful. The woman ran a finger along Jack's angelic lips. A smile appeared on her own lips. "Who would have t'ought you would die because of a woman."

"You are Calypso." Amelia said softly regaining some of her composure.

The woman's head shot up to look at her and in an instant she became both hideous and beautiful. "I am Tia Dalma Priestess of de Sea!" Her eyes turned red and blood shot, her mouth opened up revealing rotting teeth black poison seeping onto her lips. Her dress looked like tattered rags, her hair became real hair the dreadlocks filthy. "And you have killed him!" The woman hissed.

The countess felt petrified but her face became stony. "Yes," She said sternly. "You can bring him back to life."

The woman's face became seductive and wicked. "dat I can, but ya must give me somet'ing in return. Somet'ing wort'y of a life." She smiled.

Amelia looked horrified, all of her hope rested on what she could give in exchange. "What can I possibly give that would be enough?"

"He loves you does he not?" She asked again both wicked and seductive.

Amelia looked down at Jack still in this creature's arms. She didn't know, she hadn't really considered it. She only knew she loved him.

Tia Dalma's smile grew. "As you love him."

Amelia looked up at her. "I don't understand."

"I want da most valuable gift of love he has given you. Somet'ing dat should have been his, somet'ing that he has given to you."

The countess grabbed at her chest and the emerald ring that hung on a thin chain. Jack had given it to her the night she'd confronted him and fallen in love with him. She treasured it more than anything in the world, but it was nothing compared to Jack's life. It couldn't be that easy. "If I give it to you will you save him?"

"Yes, but ya must vow dat it will belong ta da sea." Tia Dalma extended a slender hand to Amelia.

The countess stared at the hand for a moment, then she pulled the ring and chain from her neck and dropped it in Tia Dalma's hand.

Tia Dalma smiled. "d'en you vow it?"

Amelia paused for another moment then grasp her hand the ring still inside.

The countess felt as though a bolt of lightening shot through her body. She let go of Tia Dalma's hand with a shock panting feeling as though part of her life had just been torn away.

Tia Dalma delicately held the ring in her hand. Then she brought Jack's lifeless hand up holding the ring tight between her hand and his. She leaned down and kissed him.

Weakly but still outraged the countess was about to protest when she saw Jack's hand twitch.

Tia Dalma sat up and tossed the ring back to the countess who caught it confused. "I will give ya fifteen years. Ya payment must find it way back to da sea before den."

Amelia's brow creased. "But why fifteen years?"

Tia Dalma leaned close and grabbed the countess by the arm. "It seem only fair to do so." Her hand lightly touched the countess's stomach. It was the last thing she remembered before she awoke to Jack knelt next to her.

"Have a bit of a tumble did we?" He smiled the way he always did helping her to her feet.

"Yes," she said smiling weakly. "terribly clumsy aren't I." She looked up at him. He was smiling the casual way he always did but his eyes. Did he remember? His eyes were hiding something. She looked away. "You must leave Jack, now." She stared at the sand at her feet. "If you're found they'll kill you."

"Not that bad really, oh don't get me wrong it stings quite a bit," He said tugging slightly at his bloody shirt. "but over all--"

"You're not worth the trouble." She said harshly, it was easier when she didn't look at him. "and if you stay here they'll kill us both."

He grinned the skin around his eyes puckering slightly. Jack leaned close to her ear and whispered. "then come with me."

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"The countess had to kill Jack to save him." The Count said musingly looking at the ring on Jack's hand. He then looked at Jack's face carefully to see the reaction. It was only a story, the Count had never really believed such a fanciful tale. A mysterious treasure, a noble woman falling in love with a pirate, people being killed and brought back to life, pacts with mystical beings, these things didn't happen in real life.

The Count stared at Jack anxiously awaiting Jack to laugh, to grin, anything! Jack would grin, gold teeth glittering, 'well lad it wasn't so much a countess as it was a Tortuga wench,' he'd say. 'I did die though, fought my way through the three headed dog Cerberus itself to get back. Too much rum left un-drunk' he'd joke or say something like that.

Jack didn't joke, he didn't smile his kohl lined eyes only stared at little wider at the bottle of rum in his hand.

Slowly the Count swallowed staring off at nothing and continued the fairy tale. He continued where Tia Dalma had left off, and where he guessed the story was meant to go. "What the countess had failed to realize was that the ring was not the most valuable gift Jack had given the her. The countess had been keeping this treasure secret and she kept that secret for fifteen years. Until this treasure escaped her watchful gaze and found it's way onto a ship named the 'Virgin Queen'--"

Suddenly Jack went flying forward as did the Count and every other member of the crew except O'Conner but even he stumbled and fell. A large boom rang through the whole of the ship.

The Count sat up with a groan. "What the hell was that?"

O'Conner sat up shocked. "That lad, was a cannon ball being shot at The Iron Maiden." He climbed to his feet. "All hands on deck you salty dogs, there be dead men floating around wishin' to pick a fight with the Maiden." The men wobbled as the ship swayed. "Jack with me." Commanded O'Conner.

Jack made a praying pose with his hands, blessing whatever glorious and convenient ship that cannon ball belonged to. He then scrambled to his feet and dashed after O'Conner up to the deck.

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The Count followed the others onto the deck, though unless there was a sword fight to be had he was pretty useless. He climbed a latter up through a opening a door to the top deck. He could smell dawn approaching, not more than a half hour off. Once on deck he saw Tim and Jack standing still staring off as were all of the other pirates on deck.

He couldn't see past the men who stood as though in a trance. He pushed his slender form through the throng. "What are you all gawking at--" he stopped when he caught sight of what had petrified the men.

An armada, a fleet of ships was spread across the dark horizon. One anonymous bastard had fired a shot at the Maiden, had dared attack the Maiden. But that was the only shot. The Iron Maiden was nearly indestructible bullet-proof and cannon-proof. Cannon balls bounced off her sides like rubber, true they rattled the brains of those onboard but no cannon could break her.

The shot was an ultimatum, and the armada was the penalty if they did not comply.

"T'Would seem you've got quite the many admirers, Tim." Jack slurred still not taking his eyes off the ships.

O'Conner didn't respond he only squinted then pulled out his spy glass. He saw a boat, very small even with the spy glass waving a white flag and rowing towards them. "Tell me what ye make of this Jack," he said handing the spy glass to Jack.

Jack peered through the spy glass as O'Conner spoke.

"Not a surrender." O'Conner folded his arms.

Jack shrugged still looking through the glass. He turned to Tim and grinned trying to restore hope to O'Conner. "Could be a negotiation." He offered.

This did little to ease the giant as he frowned staring off at the armada. "ain't much better,"

The Count looked up at Tim worried, not at the sight of the armada like the other men. There was concern in the Giant Captain's voice, and that made the boy scared.

"I ain't too fond of this set up, Jack." O'Conner said low and portentous


	9. Proper Leverage

Author's two cents: Special thanx again to everyone who has been reading. I never thought I would make it to this point. I would also like to apologize for my gratuitous use of the word 'poof' but it just worked so well.

Disclaimer: I'm a bit prettier than ol' Jerry Bruckheimer and the folks at Walt Disney Corp. so I don't own Jack or any of the characters from the movies but the made up ones in this story are all mine.

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The little poof of a naval officer held his arms close to him as he stood on deck. He looked as though he were attempting a stony and threatening face, but the white wig and pantaloons made that a bit difficult. He stood between two soldiers who apparently had their baronets up their asses instead of at their sides.

The poof was beginning to squirm under the weight of the leering glares of thirty or more pirates. "I've… I demand to have a word with your captain." He said trying not to show how terrified he was, clearly not hard enough.

"Hear that lads?" yelled the Count drumming his fingers on the hilt of the Kraken sword. He sat lounging on a barrel near the rail. "The little twit _demands_ a word with the captain!"

Jack stood beside or rather behind the Count. He eyed the lad then suddenly made a point to keep his hat low and his head down.

Little or not the officer was still taller than the Count, that was hardly the point right now. The poof looked over at the Count. His eyes squinted a moment studying something in the Count's direction. His eyes shifted and he turned as pale white as his wig when The Giant emerged from his cabin.

"Ease up son, Pansy wants a word 'e's entitled to a word." He pointed a finger in the poof's direction it seemed like the wig-wearing boy would faint from that alone. "But them sticks stay where they are." He commanded then waved for the lad to join him.

The naval officer took a hesitant step forward then followed after him.

O'Conner turned and walked back into his cabin but not before yelling to the crew. "And gents' try not to maim or murder our _guests_ in the meantime." The men chuckled as O'Conner and the young naval officer disappeared into the cabin.

Jack at least lifted his head looking at the cabin door for a moment. His brow creases and he made a face; he could swear he was hearing a bizarre pulsing, a sort of humming from beside him. He looked over at the Count as though the whelp had made some lewd comment to Jack.

The boy's eyes stared locked on the door as he drummed his fingers at the hilt of his sword. Slowly as though he felt Jack's attention he looked at Jack his fingers coming to an abrupt stop. The Count's eyes darted to the left suddenly then back to Jack.

Jack turned his head to see what the Count was eyeing. Near the door was a neglected little porthole. It was filthy useless totally for decoration and perfect for spying on a conversation between a captain and a poof.

Jack's beads and dreadlocks jingled as he turned back to the Count. He raised his eye brows.

The Count raised his as well nodding.

Both men turned to see how the sticks were fairing. They were far too busy being taunted by the crew to notice two odd looking men sneak over to eavesdrop.

Jack skidded over to the little window and leaned up to peer through but found the dirt too thick. He pulled out his sash and began wiping at the window until he saw the two men. Well, to be explicitly so, he saw one waif and one landmass.

Jack was momentarily distracted by the Count, who was standing on his toes but still coming no where near the window. Jack had to use all his will power not to laugh, it could alert O'Conner and the poof, after all. "Would you like a boost, lad?" He said making a face sympathetic to the Count's pocket-sized plight.

The Count stopped, one hand on the edge of the window. He shot Jack a look that would have stricken him dead if possible. His left foot shot over hooking around a small stool and bringing it under his feet lifting him higher than Jack.

Jack's lower lip moved outward slightly, he cocked his head to the right and shrugged in approval. Both he and the Count leaned their ears close to the window.

Jack's black eyes rolled around mechanically as though totally independent of his head.

The Count's own eyes looked toward the window and slightly downward. His eyes then shot over to Jack from beneath his gold spectacles when Jack's name was mentioned in the conversation.

Jack's kohl eyes widened and stared straight at the Count. His dreadlocks remained pressed firm against wall of the cabin. "I don't like the direction these negotiations are taking." Jack slurred in a deep voice.

A beat or two passed then the Count and Jack both looked at each other with the same comic look of terror.

"Jack." The Count silently mouthed. He stepped off the stool and stood rigid beside the door to the cabin.

A moment later the poof emerged. The Count eyed him viciously as the boy officer walked back to stand between the sticks.

Things didn't look good. Sure, Jack had been dealt some bad hands before, but this? This wasn't a bad hand this was playing without any bleedin' cards. He eyed the boy the moment just before the Count ran into the cabin.

There was really only one thing that could be done just now. Jack looked around his immediate person for some large blunt object that could knock a man out in one blow.

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O'Conner sat down gesturing for the waif to do the same across from him. He rested his hand on the table.

The small naval officer cleared his throat and began. "You are The Giant Captain Tim O'Conner." He swallowed.

"Ye seem somewhat surprised." He smiled thinly.

The boy's posture was rigid and his face stony as he spoke. "It's only, I never assumed the rumors of a Giant captaining the Iron Maiden were true."

"Are ye tryin' to flatter me son or insult me?"

The officer drew in a breath and tensed.

O'Conner's eyes stared at the boy for a moment then he lifted his hand.

The naval officer trembled slightly.

"Rest easy, lad. If I wanted to kill ye, ye'd be dead now." He ran a hand over his hair. "so ye know who I am though I expected as much from yer warm welcome." He gestured at the cabin door. "But I still don't know who you are."

"I am Second Lieutenant Wilson of the royal navy."

O'Conner nodded and rolled his eyes. "do feel free to take the stick out at some point. I'm interested in knowin' why bother with negotiations at all the fleet would suggest you were achin' for a fight."

"Not aching, but they are prepared. Truth is they're scared more than anything." The boy seemed calmer now.

"And you rowed all the way out here to what? Persuade me and me men to the gallows is that it?"

"Sounds stupid to me too. But I was the unlucky fool who got stuck with the job. As I said before they really aren't looking forward to fighting you." the officer smiled thinly.

O'Conner leaned forward rubbing his chin. "Well then what say I kill you and take my chances with the fleet?"

The boy broke out into a cold sweat. His breathing began to get shallow, clearly unnerved by the offer. "I'd h-have to say that's largely why I didn't want the job."

O'Conner leaned back with a grin.

"I wouldn't advise it though not just for my sake either." the boy said quickly. "You see they _will_ kill you, one way or another they'll manage it, they just don't want to spend the man power you see."

"Ah but ye see that still leaves me an' me men dead." O'Conner leaned forward on his massive forearms and smiled warmly at the lad. "Kill ye and sinkin' ye ships seems the best option all 'round. 'Sides I think ye might be underestimating the Iron Maiden."

"perhaps," the boy said again quickly. "but I think I might know of a way that could save both our skins."

O'Conner was about to stand up and make good on his offer when he paused. His brow creased. "Aye?"

The officer's hands which had been resting on the table danced back and fell on his lap. His eyes shifted a moment, he seemed more nervous than ever. "I understand you have one Jack Sparrow onboard."

O'Conner's eyes narrowed. "What of it?"

"The crimes he's amassed over the years make that of you and your crew pale by comparison."

O'Conner seemed to roll his eyes.

"My point is," the boy continued. "if you handed over Sparrow you'd be granted full pardon."

O'Conner's large fingers lightly drummed the table as he took in this new bit of information. "Step outside a moment while I consider this."

The boy seemed to brighten up. He stood up and almost fell realizing his legs had turned to jelly from fear. The poof quickly regained his composure or what was left of it and walked out.

O'Conner was rubbing his chin when the Count burst into the cabin.

"You can't do it." he said low leering at O'Conner.

O'Conner sat up straight but his voice remained even. "What did ye say?"

"You heard me." the Spaniard rasped in a low and menacing voice. "You can't trade in Jack's life for your own."

"It isn't just me own life at risk here but the life of every man on board this ship." O'Conner raised his voice looking at the small young man who'd been all but a son to him for the past four plus years.

"The Maiden could take those sail boats without a fuss." The Count said in disgust.

"Aye!" O'Conner leaned forward. "Maybe she could, but if I put the lives of all me men at risk for one man there'll never be a day when I don't have to look over me shoulder. No man sails under a captain iffen he thinks he's gone soft." O'Conner's mast of an arm swung around to point to the door. "The crew of the Iron Maiden are drunk, and stand against over ten ships. For treasure n' gold maybe, they're own lives o'course but not for one man lad, even if it be Jack Sparrow."

"Captain!" The Count corrected angrily.

"Captain, Captain Jack Sparrow." O'Conner obliged looking sympathetically at the boy. "The life of one man even if it is Captain Jack Sparrow, is a small price to pay for the lives of a whole ship."

The Count's face grew dark. "I won't let you, Tim."

O'Conner's face became blank as he looked at the dainty boy. "You won't let me?"

The Count reached for the deadly Kraken sword. His fingers just tightening around the hilt when he heard the Giant's voice take on a tone he'd never heard before.

"Ye do that lad," O'Conner's body didn't move not in the slightest, nor did his face lose it's light-hearted air, but his voice made it clear. "Close to me 't heart as ye be, quarter master or no, ye unsheathe that sword and ye be dead the moment after."

For what seemed like forever the Count stared at the Giant. It was the first time, the first real time it had ever been made clear that Tim would ever kill him.

"I _can't_ let you do it." The Count hissed low, his grip tightening on the sword.

O'Conner stared at the dark-haired boy but his eyes moved to the Count's left.

Jack rest a filthy hand wearing a piece of leather and the emerald ring on the Count's shoulder. "Thanks, son." Jack smiled warmly at the Count with the same look the boy found so damnable.

Before the Count had a chance to respond he was hit in the head with an oar.

The lad lay sprawled unconscious on the floor as O'Conner sat speechless.

Jack stared down at the boy. "I really appreciate it." Jack look up at O'Conner with a smile, chin and hands resting on the fat end of the oar. "Well Tim shall we get this farce under way?" He stared coolly at O'Conner his fingers dancing on the top of the oar.

O'Conner still sat staring in awe of the man in dreadlocks and beads. Finally he solemnly nodded and stood up. He walked next to Jack knowing that would do more than any irons to keep the wily captain from escaping. "yer not gonna try an' talk yer way outta this? That's not like you." He said looking down at Jack suspiciously.

"No." He said as though it were the most ludicrous notion. He took a baby step back to look up at the giant and for pure safe-sake with the oar helping his balance. "You're right Tim. But you yourself said that a good man is a silent man so I am merely proving I am indeed the better man by my not saying a word to the fact that you are selling me down river."

O'Conner blinked slowly. "So what yer saying is that yer saying nothing."

Jack sighed tossing the oar on the table. He looked up at O'Conner with a sway. "'ah swear mate, sometimes you make no sense at all." He made a swishing motion with his arms toward the door almost spinning his whole body. "Shall we?"

"I really am sorry about this Jack." he said as the two men walked out of the cabin.

Jack chose not to hear him as he sauntered/marched out the door

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Jack pouted as he was clasped into irons the poof and the two sticks had conveniently brought along. He knew why of course, but information like that was best left until the opportune moment.

All the men seemed to be avoiding eye contact with him at the moment. He couldn't blame them they were saving their skins the simplest way they knew how. He winced as one of the sticks tightened the cuffs. "Gently, mate."

The stick's response was too make them all the tighter.

Jack grimaced then glanced at the poof who was the sole source of his sufferings. Even in the wig he knew the little bastard.

The boy smiled thinly at Jack, no doubt he was wondering why Jack had not voiced who the lad really was. All in due time you little twit.

Jack looked scrawny as the sticks hoisted him by the arms and forced him into the row boat. Slowly the men began to lower it down to the water below. Tim O'Conner looked over the edge of the ship down at Jack.

"Best of luck to ye, Jack Sparrow." He said his massive form leaning over the rail.

"And to you Tim O'Conner." Jack said back before being jabbed by one of the sticks.

Once the boat was safely in the water and rowing back to the pirate ships disguised as navel ships did the poof remove the wig. The whelp sighed lounging in the row boat twisting his short black hair.

Just as Jack thought, it was Chang Pao Tsai, Madame Ching's adopted son.

Chang could pass for a European naval officer, all the brat needed was a bloody wig.

Jack arched a brow as he turned his head to look at the fleet of ships behind him. He cleared his throat and looked back at the boy unimpressed. "I had no idea Madame Ching had ships that could past for the Royal Navy."

He'd made enemies with Madame Ching awhile back and she was hardly a pirate known for her mercy. On top of that she'd placed a reward on Jack's head, but if O'Conner had known that he would have all but gift wrapped Jack for her. Still, with all this fuss just to capture him he couldn't help but smile.

"Ah Jack, good to see you remember her." Chang smiled giving Jack's arm a slight kick. He still lay lounging twisting his hair while the sticks rowed. He sat up straight leering at him now. "Then you will also remember what awaits you."

Jack casually glanced behind him at the fleet of ships. He noticed one in particular a lovely Chinese vessel with red sails, almost invisible through the slight morning fog. "Is that Sao Feng's ship?"

The lad scowled having his threat completely ignored. "Yes, he was quite glad to help."

Jack nodded glancing back at the Maiden. "Ah, I see." He was almost perfectly between the Maiden and the fleet. The row boat was just in earshot of the Maiden now. Jack cleared his throat looking back at Chang. "So why didn't you pay Captain O'Conner his reward!" he said calmly but loudly.

Chang stared at Jack as though the beaded man had finally lost it. "Captain Sao Feng is being paid for your hide the fewer captains we need to pay the better." He said his voice at a normal and confused volume.

"WHAT YOU'RE SAYING IS O'CONNER'S SHIP COULD HAVE TAKEN YOUR FLEET AND YOU STILL DIDN'T PAY HIM HIS REEEWAAARD!" Jack craned his neck speaking at the top of his lungs.

Chang leaned back unnerved. "Yes what is so difficult to comprehend?"

A slight smile danced across Jack's lips. He looked calmly back at Chang. "No reason it just seems rude is all."

Chang squinted a moment as he looked at Jack. Then his eyes widened as he spun around to look back at the Iron Maiden.

Dotting her railing were many dirty, shocked, and furious pirates.

Chang spun back around and looked at the two sticks who stared up terrified at the Maiden's angry crew. "Row, you fools!" he screamed.

Jack was looking up at the men running about on the Maiden with a smile.

"You!" Chang sneered pointing at Jack. Jack jumped slightly as Chang pulled out a pistol not a millimeter from Jack's nose.

"Mummy would be very angry if you brought me back full of holes." He said quickly.

Chang shook with anger. "I hate to admit it Sparrow, but you're right."

Jack ground his teeth together as the butt a gun was struck to the back of his head. Then his whole world went black.

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Jack awoke to the sound of cannon fire, bells, and vulgar yelling, however the bells were the ones ringing in his head. He slowly began to sit up certain his head had swelled to thrice it's original size. The row boat he was still in was bobbing like a cork in the water between the rapidly moving ships surrounding it.

The ships weren't exactly moving _on_ the water; it was more a 'those sinking and those trying not to be sunk' kind of movement. Men on the decks of the fake naval ships scrambled to fire or at least defend against the Maiden's pikes and cannon balls.

Jack's eyes rolled around mechanically trying to focus. He spotted three men in the row boat that looked like Chang. No wait, one…two,… no definitely one. The one Chang was yelling up at a ship next to the row boat with red blurry things above it. Sails, sails, the blurry things were sails. It was the 'Empress', apple of Captain Sao Feng's eye and Jack's floating death sentence.

One thing was clear in Jack's blurry world he had to row away, fast while the chaos was still good.

Chang was still busy screaming for the men on the boat to drop a line.

Jack took the opportunity to lean back and with all the strength in his legs kick the little brat into the choppy brine.

Chang didn't even have time to yell as he went flying into the water. When he surfaced he had just enough time to see Jack grabbing the oars and beginning to row as though is life depended on it; which funnily enough it always did.

Jack's limbs felt like rubber from the blow to his head, making rowing very problematic.

Not important.

The irons still viciously tight, and cutting into his skin would no doubt slit his wrists from the rowing before long.

Not important.

The stick's body that was hanging bloody over the edge of the rowboat had it's head splashing in the water.

Smelly, but not important. Wait.

He looked around noticing that one of the sticks was gone and the other hung over the side of the row boat. Jack paused from the rowing feeling as though his arms were lit a blaze. His nose curled up as he leaned over to the dead and waterlogged man.

His hands reached towards the man (both hands still shackled together), one index finger uncoiling to give the man a couple of sharp pokes. His finger instantly coiled back. He scowled and tsked as though he tasted something bad.

No man could call Captain Jack Sparrow squeamish but feeling a newly dead body was not the most pleasant feeling in the world either. Carefully he began to search through the man's pockets until he found what he was looking for, the keys.

Jack unlocked the cuffs gently rubbing the cuts on his wrists. He looked up at the ships still fighting it out. The row boat was still close enough to shake from the battle's waves.

The Iron Maiden had her thorns out, devouring yet another ship. 'Hell hath no fury like the Maiden scorned…' bloody right. Jack was suddenly struck by a notion, if possible more heinous than being caught by the 'Empress' and that was being caught by the 'Iron Maiden'.

Jack leaned back over to the dead fake soldier. "Sorry mate," He said pushing the body off the boat. "But deadweight is deadweight, and they don't make them much deader than you." With a final grunt he pushed the body into the water. He returned to the oars and pulled out his compass. He looked down then closed it and tucked it back into his pocket.

Jack gripped the oars taking one final look at the Maiden as it easily overtook yet another ship. He made a somewhat weary frown, then leaned back lounging as he momentarily let go of the right oar. He smirked in a way that only Jack Sparrow could. "Best of luck to you Tim O'Conner." He gave salute. "You shall always remember this as the day you almost caught Captain Jack Sparrow--" Just then a stray cannon ball came flying toward the lifeboat hitting the water barely missing it.

The life boat practically jumped up and down in the water.

Jack froze for a moment in the bobbing boat as he was showered in salt water, his kohl lined eyes staring wide. Screw it; time to row. He grabbed both oars and began the impossible task of rowing to Tortuga with no food or water.

Not Important, besides he _was_ the Infamous Captain Jack Sparrow.

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Small historical note: Madame Ching was a real person as was her adopted son, Cheung Po Tsai. At one point she had roughly a thousand ships under her command. (although clearly I've taken some artistic liberties with the two.)


	10. Pirates of the Caribbean: At Worlds End

Author's 2 cents: Sorry about the delay gang, complications arose, ensued, were over come. 3 guesses where this part of the story takes place. I based the bones of this story on a fake script for the third movie that's been floating around. Because I know some people didn't want to read it, (though I don't know why saved for one scene as far as I can tell the script will be nothing like the final cut of the movie) I've decided to give fair warning on this one. (however as many _artistic_ _liberties_ I've taken with it, it won't be much like the fake script either) ack! I've talked too long. Anyway pirates ye be warned!

Disclaimer: I'm a bit prettier than ol' Jerry Bruckheimer and the folks at Walt Disney Corp. so I don't own Jack or any of the characters from the movies but the made up ones in this story are all mine.

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Elizabeth Swann was still beautiful. Even beneath the dirt after months of sailing, even in cabin boy's clothes, even with her beautiful locks in a boy's braid, she glowed.

There was once a time when her whole world revolved around being beautiful. It was the duty of every young woman of privilege to be beautiful so that they could marry a fine (wealthy) man, have many children and live happily (monotonously) ever after. That had never appealed to her much.

Whatever the case she _knew_ she was hideous now. In fact she'd been avoiding mirrors or anything with a reflective surface of any kind like the plague. She was an ugly and disgusting monster, who betrayed her friends.

That was greatly why she was here, to cure herself. Hopefully she could still change back into a human being again.

Singapore Harbor was disturbingly still. The shadows danced about with the heavenly yellow glow of the lamps attached to fisherman's rowboats. The wharf was a labyrinth of crates and cargo stacked onto crisscrossing docks.

Amidst the black water moved a small sailboat navigated by a slender boy with long light brown hair in a braid. The boy began to sing in beautiful soprano. "_Came all ye young fellers that follows the sea._" The boy waited for a response until at last there came a voice singing from his right.

"_To my way haye, blow the man down_" The voice came from an old fisherman cleaning the day's catch. He peered up at the beautiful face as it came into the light.

He took the time to ogle the young Miss Swann. "Our Lady has been expecting you." He said in a sinister tone as he grinned baring his rotting teeth at her.

Elizabeth seemed undaunted by the man's attitude. "Is she aware of the terms we agreed to?"

The man stared up at her as he slashed the fish in his hand. "Yes." His forearms already covered in fish guts became more so as he cleaned the fish. "So long as you have the payment you promised."

Elizabeth nodded then slowly sailed away. After several moments she came towards the main wharf where a large but rickety ship had docked. Near the ship standing on the dock was a darken figure with his back turned to Elizabeth.

The sailboat tranquilly drifted up to the main dock. "They're ready." She said to the man as he turned to face her.

He stood tall and imposing in his murky gray jacket and large black feathered hat. "Aye, Miss Swann somehow I gathered that." Barbossa said gently scratching the head of the monkey sitting on his shoulder.

Elizabeth climbed out of the boat and up the stairs to the wharf where she saw twenty Chinese pirate soldiers waiting. She drew in a breath and looked over at Barbossa who continued unfazed as the monkey chewed on a knotted metal pendent around his neck.

He smiled at Elizabeth in a way that sent a chill down her spine. Blue eyes shimmering like jewels surrounded by pale yellow. Barbossa then turned toward the ship. "Bring out the prisoner!" He commanded.

It never failed to perturb Elizabeth the ease in which Barbossa had once again assumed his captain's status on the 'Worlds End'. It made her wonder what the outcome would be when and if they found the Black Pearl and Jack. Jack… of course they would find him; they had to find him.

Pintel and Ragetti dragged forth a man with a hood tied to his head and his hands bound behind him.

One of the soldiers stepped forward regarding the prisoner. He didn't look very impressed with what he saw. He said something in Chinese that Elizabeth didn't understand.

Barbossa looked at the prisoner. "Turn'em around!" he commanded to Pintel and Ragetti.

The Chinese pirate then tore away the man's shirt revealing a dragon tattoo. The pirate then nodded and gestured for the rest of the Chinese pirates to take him away.

The prisoner turned his head slightly listening to how many men surrounded him. Suddenly the prisoner broke free, jumped up and pulled his binds over his legs in front of him. The prisoner rammed into one of the Chinese soldiers and grabbed hold of his sword. One at a time the hooded man fought and beat the Chinese pirates.

Barbossa stood back eyes half mast staring at the scene. Jack the Monkey turned it's head as though the situation were just as ridiculous and confusing to it. His face grew long and he rolled his eyes. "Don't fight him one at a time, you idiots. Rush him!"

Pintel, Ragetti, and the rest of the Chinese pirates ran towards the prisoner. Surprisingly, the man was still holding his own. He gave Ragetti a sharp elbow to the side of his head.

Ragetti yelled out in pain and then in panic as his wooden eye popped out of his head and went rolling across the dock. He began to crawl after his wandering eye forgetting the prisoner entirely.

The prisoner threw one man who'd grabbed onto his right arm and tried to throw another just as he felt a small dagger beneath his chin. He froze with the sword still in his hands.

Elizabeth held the blade pressed to his neck. "Drop it." she said coldly. When the man didn't comply she pressed the blade closer. "You don't get it. I don't care whether or not you live."

The prisoner's jaw tightened beneath the hood when he heard that.

"Drop it." she said again. The cutlass fell making a clattering noise as it hit the dock.

Ragetti's wooden eye was about to roll off the edge of the wharf and into the sea when a boot stepped on it. Ragetti looked at the boot and then to it's owner.

Babossa sighed as he lifted the ball of his foot.

Ragetti gave a weak smile as he hesitantly grabbed the eye, wiped it off, and stuck it back in it's socket.

Pintel ran up and gave Ragetti a sharp poke in the arm. "Did ya find'it?" he scolded. He then jumped slightly when he saw Barbossa.

The monkey on Barbossa's shoulder clad in it's tiny vest and shirt pointed at the two and grinned.

Barbossa walked over to Elizabeth who still had a blade to the prisoner's throat. "Well done lass." he smirked.

"It's Miss Swann." She shot back.

"ah yes," he turned to the battered men, who stood up humiliated. "gents would you be so kind as to help Miss Swann with her prisoner."

The men sneered at her as they took the hooded man away.

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Captain Sao Feng Stood very commanding and surprisingly tall. He had two scars on either side of his face. The one on the left was like a divining rod the other merely a symbol of his occupation. His long black mustache was cut so that it only grew at the corners of his mouth. He lifted his head slightly as the group of misfits entered the temple.

Behind him sat a Chinese Lady with icy eyes that took in everything with a powerful calm. She was dressed in the clothing of an empress fine silks with a high thread count, fitting for a woman who _did_ command an empire.

Barbossa stared up at the lady then bowed. "M'Lady it's good to see you alive and well." He turned his head to the men holding the prisoner. "Bring'em forward."

The men pulled the man with the dragon tattoo forward and forced him to his knees before the Lady.

She stared down with the same cold gaze as she lifted her head.

"Madame Ching we have brought a gift," He gestured to the prisoner. "the man who has slain your son."

The men spun the prisoner to reveal the tattoo again.

"Our Lady is pleased with your offering." Said Sao Feng looking every bit the devil in his red jacket and rotten tooth grin.

Whether Madame Ching was pleased or not was left completely up to Sao Feng's judgment.

"And is the Lady feeling generous enough to provide a gift in return?" Babossa said in his gravelly voice playing coy as was so often the case.

Sao Feng smiled in the same devious way Babossa did as he reached over to the table nearest the Lady. "The charts are here." he said holding a small scroll only slightly larger than his hand. It was so strange that the gateway to heaven and hell and all that lay in between was contained in such a small item.

Sao Feng extended his arm slightly the retracted it when Babossa's eyes fell on the prize. "Our Lady knows of your interest in Jack Sparrow. He is known to us as well,"

Some of the Chinese pirates glanced at one another.

Sao Feng spoke his words very slowly with very deliberate articulation. "As a scoundrel, theft, and evildoer," Even through his precise speech his voice still tinged with a condescending and threatening tone.

Babossa stepped up to take the charts from Seo Feng's hands but the Chinese Captain held tight.

"with a price upon his head." Sao Feng held the charts for another moment as he looked at Babossa. The two seemed to be speaking some silent language to one another. Finally Sao Feng let go of the scroll.

"How much?" came a voice too soft to come from a pirate. Elizabeth moved forward through the multitude of pirates.

Sao Feng eyed her like a trinket, a rare find he greatly desired. "I commend your choice in traveling companion; I fear we chose the wrong payment." He spoke to Barbossa, his eyes never leaving Elizabeth.

Babossa glanced at Elizabeth and raised his eye brows, perhaps realizing another item to be bargained with later. "The wench is not for trade at the moment."

"wench?" said Elizabeth offended.

Barbossa shot her a look that told her to be silent.

Sao Feng finished undressing Elizabeth with his eyes and turned his attention back to the red-haired Captain. "Perhaps at a later time then." He elegantly gestured with two fingers for his men to bring the prisoner keeping his eyes locked on Barbossa. "Jack Sparrow now resides in Davy Jones' locker; it lies between the land of the living and the land of the dead."

Barbossa scoffed and smiled bitterly as he tucked the charts into the belt that ran over his shoulder and around his waist. "Just like Jack, to cheat death."

Sao Feng grinned wide like a Cheshire cat. "No he is not dead…

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… _death would have been a much kinder fate."_

Jack stood in the middle of a desert of bleached bone white sand. No water, no oceans, no seas, nothing but awful land dry, and lifeless for miles around. There was no sun though the heat felt like he was being beaten by it's rays. There was no blue sky above, nothing to remind him of the beauty and freedom of the sea, nothing but whiteness and blankness everywhere.

The chains wrapped around his body too, were a reminder that he was a prisoner nothing but a bird in a cage. Worse still, it was his own beloved Black Pearl that now anchored him to this place.

Jack pulled against the chains digging his feet deep into the white sand. If he could just get the Pearl to water, it would be fine. For some rather odd reason it never seemed to occur to him that he could never have the strength to pull a ship. When the thought did manage to slip in, it slipped out just as quickly, as though something unforeseen about this place made it impossible for him to think.

Sweat poured off of his brow, he would have taken off his hat and jacket but again that didn't occur to him often either. He panted pulling with all of his might but his beloved ship refused to move. The kohl was stinging his eyes, that never happened before.

The chains (the links the size of his arms) finally won out again and he plopped backwards onto the sand. He sat slumped over and spread eagled, like a tired five-year-old. He stared off numbly into space for a moment then he glanced behind him at the Pearl regretting it almost immediately.

His sweet and wonderful Pearl towered over him, her stern dry as a bone. It wasn't natural, it was obscene (and by Jack's standards no less) that his angel was trapped like he was.

Jack smiled weakly. Well he _did_ have the Pearl. "Don't fret dear heart ol' Jack wouldn't leave you out here all by your lonesome." He breathed heavily, even speaking hurt. He winced feeling another pang of pain come from his right arm where a branded 'P' sizzled, looked, and felt just like the day he got it, as did all his scars.

Jack stared out into the white abyss. "Nope ol' Jack isn't going anyplace," He swayed slightly. "ever."

He glanced down at something white that looked like a large bug scurry by with an arched brow.

"So melancholy," tsked a silvery voice. "could this really be the Infamous Captain Jack Sparrow?"

Jack's brows came together as he stared at the ground. He knew that voice. Slowly his dark dreadlock head lifted up to see to whom the voice belonged. His black eyes squinted as he peered up at a slinky form dressed in nearly sheer under things. "Amelia."

The countess looked unchanged; she was scantily glad in her nightgown, soft brown hair wonderfully awry as though she'd just… been engaged in another act she'd been rather talented at in her day. She sat down on a large white stone and smiled. "You look good, Jack."

Jack tilted his head back chain still slung over his shoulder. He examined her up and down for a moment before replying. "Are you dead?"

She nodded. "yes."

"Good." he said shortly then sat with his back facing her which was more difficult than one would have assumed due to the chain and what not.

A few beats passed before she spoke. "Are _you_ dead, Jack?"

Jack looked up, his arms folded and his back still turned to her. He opened his mouth once thought about it then shut it. His head tilted to the side still turning the matter over in his brain. "Bizarrely enough I never really asked." he glanced over his shoulder at her. "After awhile it's just one of those things you assume, really."

-------------------------------------------------

"If that is the case maybe I should just leave him be." Barbossa didn't even need to look over his shoulder to feel the leering gaze of the young Miss Swann. He sighed. "Tempting as that is, I've made quite a trip to get these." he gently patted the charts. "Best not waste them." He bowed slightly signaling to the others it was time to leave.

"Before you leave." commanded Sao Feng in a calm and even voice. "Our lady would like to closer examine the prisoner"

As though on cue, the tattoo on the prisoner's back began to melt off from the sweat.

One of the Chinese pirates holding the prisoner looked up at Feng and shook his head.

Nothing on Sao Feng's person changed as he stared coolly at the group. "kill them."

Elizabeth ran over and rammed her body into the pirates holding the prisoner then slashed the binds and tossed the man a sword.

Both she and the man in the hood stood back to back as they battled the pirates that dove at them. The man pulled off his hood and smiled at Elizabeth who stood with her back to him.

Elizabeth turned her head and smiled back at Will. Then both Will and Elizabeth went back to the all too important task of getting out of the temple alive.

Sao Feng launched himself at Barbossa. Barbossa blocked just in time to catch Feng's sword. In a flash the Chinese Captain snatched the charts from his belt. Barbossa sneered and beat back Sao Feng.

Sao Feng jumped back not wishing to sully his hands anymore with battle he had all he needed. Out of the corner of his eyes however he caught a glint of metal he jumped out of the way dropping the charts before a cutlass took them and his hand along with it.

Elizabeth having distracted Sao Feng just enough for him to drop the charts dove for them but was cut off by two Chinese pirates. She looked up at the men. One with one eye the other made of glass, the other man with a mustache like Sao Feng's but much dirtier. She couldn't fight them _and_ get to the charts. She held up her sword ready to battle the two men, when she sensed someone behind her. Just as the men were about to strike she ducked down as Will leapt over her and clashed swords with the pirates.

"Hurry!" he called to her with his eyes locked on the two he was fighting.

Elizabeth dashed to the charts or rather where they once were.

Sao Feng stood before her with an impressed look on his face as he held the charts in his hand. Behind him stood over a dozen guards.

The light-haired woman knew they'd run out of options. She looked over at Will, who had beaten the two pirates. He looked back at her appearing to have come to the same conclusion.

The guards charged at them. Behind the men sat Madame Ching, unwaveringly, slightly furious, and disappointed in how her men were fairing.

Will still panting from the earlier battle began to hack and slash his way through the men. "back to the doors!"

A group of the soldiers stood in their way as they made a break for the doors. Pintel and Ragetti did pretty well making a path for the others as they chopped and cut at the pirates. Not that surprising this was the part they shined at, good thing too they were pretty dim the rest of the time.

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The group continued fighting as they ran along the ramps and docks. Will lagged behind to hold the pirates back and give Elizabeth and the others some well needed distance and a better chance to get to the ship.

Will sliced at one pirate while he kicked at another, Jack hadn't been a total waste of life after all. The young man had picked up a thing or two from Jack; it did no good to follow the rules, there would always be those who didn't.

He spun around and swung on a rope to get to the docks quicker. It didn't work out that way as he landed right in front of Sao Feng. The two men immediately locked swords.

Sao Feng swung at young Turner. He moved out of the way just in time for Feng to ram into him and knock him through a window in a shack on the docks.

Elizabeth turned around just in time to see Will go flying through the window and Sao Feng follow to finish him off. "Will…"


	11. Nothing Lasts Forever

Author's 2 cents: ah… some well needed estrogen in the story finally. I would like to take this moment just to say many thax to everyone for reading. Also special thax to everyone who reviewed. I love hearing people enjoy what I write. I'm currently going through fixing typos (there's a lot sadly) in the other chapters. There will still be a few but not as many as before.

Disclaimer: I'm a bit prettier than ol' Jerry Bruckheimer and the folks at Walt Disney Corp. so I don't own Jack or any of the characters from the movies but the made up ones in this story are all mine.

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Will Turner groaned as he sat up on the shattered glass covered floor. He shook his head, shards fell from his dark brown hair. He stood up as Sao Feng stepped through the window.

Will winced the fall had left a gash on his back, which despite all the commotion was still naked and sticky from the sweat and tattoo ink. He leered for a moment at Sao Feng then sheathed his sword. He held out his hand to Sao Feng.

Sao Feng sheathed his sword as well. The Chinese Captain stood with his hands behind his back standing almost regal with his calm as he stared at the young man's hand. Slowly with a faint smile he took the charts from his pocket. "You are putting yourself through such pains." He said handing the charts to Will. "Why?"

"My reasons are my own." he said grabbing the charts and tucking them in his belt.

"You may have your reasons then, I will still expect payment." Sao Feng's hand lingered in the air as though he were still holding the scrolls, his dark eyes locked on Turner.

"And you shall have it." he tighten his belt to make certain the charts were secure. He looked back at Sao Feng with a stern hardened look. "I have no loyalty to Jack Sparrow." He unsheathed his sword and gave a flick of his arms as though preparing for a play.

Sao Feng unsheathed his sword. "methinks it is more than a simple lack of loyalty."

Will gave a thin smile gesturing to the window. "By your leave, Captain."

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Sao Feng came bursting out of the already shattered window. He stared at Will annoyed as the lad leapt after him. In an instant he was back on his feet as he slashed at Will.

Will spun and knocked the sword out of his hands. Then he quickly went swinging off, landing on the dock just in front of the Worlds End.

Elizabeth looked relieved as she ran up to him and hugged him. She stepped back her face flushed realizing he was half naked. She tried to ignore the hotness of her face as she scanned his body. "Are you injured?"

He smiled happy she was concerned. "No I'm fine." he leaned to kiss her on the mouth but she tilted her head down at the last second so that he kissed the top of her head.

A faint look of discomfort momentarily appeared on her face, that would have gone unnoticed by everyone else in the world but Will. He felt his stomach tighten slightly. She looked at him, her eyes seemed pained as she forced a smile.

Will tried to force one as well but he was having a very hard time of it.

"Much as I hate to break up this touching love scene,"

Elizabeth and Will both looked at Barbossa who stood with eyes half-mast in between Pintel and Ragetti who were watching _intently_.

The large nosed man smirked as the two lovers parted. "we are still being pursued." he gestured to the wave of filthy looking men running across the pier.

Everyone looked horrified before making a mad dash to the ship. Barbossa walked calmly behind the others while the monkey on his shoulder jumped up and down.

----------------------------------------------------

Tia Dalma sat toying with some tarot cards and a bottle of sand as Jack the Monkey ran up to her, took one of the cards, and began chewing on it. Her wild eyes looked at Barbossa who barked commands to the crew. She gracefully set the cards down and rest her chin on a loosely clinched fist. "So… how did d'it go?" she asked with a sweet smile.

There wasn't a man onboard the ship who couldn't help but stop and look at her. She stared back at them with an innocent face.

"Quit your lollygagging you slack jawed fools!" Barbossa hollered.

Will stepped forward. "I've the charts." he said offering them to Tia Dalma.

Barbossa watched with folded arms as Will handed the charts to Tia Dalma who also took a moment to eye Turner before taking them. "I'm impressed Mr. Turner."

Will leered over at Barbossa as though his admiration were worse than an insult.

Barbossa smiled again then turned to the crew. "Cast off and be quick about it!"

The Worlds End began to drift away in the dark sea water. The pirates who had followed so ruthlessly seemed to be making no effort to stalk them now. Sao Feng stood at the edge of the dock simply staring with his face unreadable and his arms folded.

Elizabeth walked to the bow of the ship staring confused at the line of the pirates that ran along the edge of the port. "They're making no effort to pursue us."

"Aye," Said Tia Dalma with a rueful smile as she scratched under the chin of the little black monkey. "but now dare be somet' ing slowly takin' over de sea, somet' ing even da most brave and bloodt 'irsty pirate will not cross."

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"And here… and here…. And here…" Beckett pointed to each paper as Governor Swann signed them with grinding teeth.

"I was under the impression piracy was on an ebb." He said as calmly as possible with ever increasing pressure on the quill he was writing with.

"The Brethren are gathering but they are optioning to lay low for the moment, and these as well." Beckett handed a new set of papers to Governor Swann.

Swann looked over them carefully, puzzlement slowly slipping into his features. "These are attack authorizations."

"That's right; name here."

Swann read further. "for the French Royal Navy, a Portuguese merchant ship, you don't intend to use the Flying Dutchman to wage war on other nations?" Swann said stunned as he looked at Lord Beckett who stared calmly.

"Purely in the interest of British commerce, Governor. What serves the Company, serves England. Initial there."

Governor Swann's hand pressed harder on the paper making a small blot but not moving. "If I didn't need the company's help to find my daughter…"

"But you do, and the company needs your power as governor. What a very fortunate coincidence."

Swann watched as the quill at last snapped under the pressure and then as another appeared before him in the same moment.

Beckett stood holding yet another quill ready. Swann yanked it from his grasp leering at the ever composed Lord. "Are you implying the company is withholding information about my daughter?"

Beckett's eyes widened and he looked at Swann with mock surprise. "How very suspicious Governor Swann. But so long as you continue to abide by the company's wishes you need not worry about such a thing." He seemed total indifferent to the daggers Swann was staring at him. He glanced down at the paper then lightly tapped it. "Governor."

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Governor Swann stared up at the Flying Dutchman with slimy sails and green barnacle covered sides. A giant steam engine started to life next to him making him jump.

"GOVERNOR!" James Norrington yelled over the roar of the machine.

"WHAT IS THIS?" Swann yelled back.

"PROGRESS! THE WORLD IS CHANGING!"

Governor Swann squinted and cupped his ear. "WHAT?"

"WORLD, CHANGING FOR THE--" The machine came to a stop no longer requiring screaming. "…better" Norrington looked very different from the way he did when he had showed up at Beckett's office to deliver the heart. He was clean shaven, his clothing was new, and his new role as privateer meant he didn't need to wear the stupid wig anymore.

"better?" Governor Swann looked up furious at him then at the Flying Dutch docked in the bay, somehow defying all the laws of man and nature by being there at all. "you call that," he pointed with his cane to the eerie ship then spun to the steam engine. "or that, or--" He point up to what he hated most of all, Lord Cutler Beckett's office looking over the harbor. "that better?"

Norrington seemed taken aback by the Governor's outburst.

Governor Swann sighed and shook his head as though apologizing. "I must find Elizabeth."

Norrington drew in a breath. "Governor, when last Elizabeth was seen she was aboard the Black Pearl as the ship went down. All are presumed lost, Elizabeth not excluded."

Swann looked back at Norrington again full of rage, at the audacity to suggest Elizabeth was dead.

At last Norrington sighed. "I was there, Weatherby."

Swann looked up at Norrington his eyes shining wet. "I must find a ship to England." he said under his breath as though gasping it.

High above both men, staring down coldly and tactically at the two Beckett stood with his arms behind his back. Slowly he turned and walked over to the map spread across his desk. It was old and out-of-date, the edges were torn and curling.

He looked down with a cold and unreadable expression running his hand over it as he walked past. He continued walking over to a bottle of brandy and poured himself a glass. He sipped it as he stared up at the much larger map mounted on the wall. This one was new, and current, the paint had just finished drying a day ago.

"_progress…" _He thought as he took another sip.

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Jack lay on his back looking upward with his arms and legs spread out as though primed to make some sand angels. No sand angels though, too hot. Overhead he heard a tender silver giggle that he didn't like. He rolled over to look at the countess. "What are you snickerin' about?"

The countess sat on the white stone with her head resting on her hand, evidently the heat wasn't bothering her. "You still have the ring." she said staring lovingly at his hand and the emerald ring on it.

Jack was tempted to tuck that hand into his pocket.

"How ever did you manage that?"

Jack smiled a gold tooth grin despite himself. He rolled over more until he was almost completely on his stomach as he looked at her. "Charm, ah'course."

"Of course." She moved towards him laying on her stomach in front of him giving him a momentary glimpse of rather lovely cleavage. She rest her chin on crooked wrists looking thoughtfully at Jack's person and the many trinkets which adorned it. "You've gathered a great many more of these since last I saw you." she giving a playful flick to a string of ornaments on the right of his head.

"You don't know half the trouble I went through getting' most of them." He said in a deep rasping voice, staring straight at her enjoying seeing that interest in her eyes as she admired his many prizes.

She gave her head a faint shake and smiled, that sweet smile, that only Jack brought out of her. "Oh I've heard." She rested her weight on her left arm and reached out to touched the deer shin bone that peeked out from his bandana. "The deer shin bone, from a medicine man after you saved his tribe from certain doom at the hands of their enemy." she gave the story mock vigor and intensity. Her dainty but swordplay callused finger drew invisible circles in front of his eyes. "Kohl, a suggestion from the wise and powerful Yogi Mystic of India, to see beyond the eyes of mortal men and into the realms of the surreal."

His eyes followed that small finger like a snake dancing to a flute.

Slowly, seductively her hand moved to caress the dreadlock nearest his face. "No need to ask the inspiration for these," She then took a string of beads and gently wound it in her fingers. "and the beads, made from the Pope's own rosaries." She made a face and shrugged. "that one seems a bit more tarted up than most but who am I to question; I was long dead by then."

Jack's eyes, which had been closed shot open. He moved his head back slightly offended. "I've not the time to reminisce." He said standing up wobbly legged under the weight of the chain. At last he gained his nice steady swaying footing.

"So if you'd be so kind" He gave his head a tilt to the right with his right wrist bent back near his shoulder as though hiding some unknown charm. "as to please bugger off!" He shooed her with both arms then went back to pulling the chains.

Amelia watched as Jack groaned pulling the chains over his shoulder. He stopped panting for a moment then he turned facing the Pearl and tried pulling that way. Still no good. He winced kicking furious splashes of sand as he pulled. He paused once to pant some more then gave one last futile pull before he turned back at Amelia.

Jack scowled at her as though she were the single source of his predicament.

Amelia for the most part just looked at him delighted she had his attention once more.

He stood slumped with the chain over his shoulder. His face changed to exhausted and confused as he stared at her. "What the bloody hell are you doing here anyway?"

She grinned looking him up and down. "At the moment? being thoroughly amused."

His eyes went half-mast and his brow creaseless.

Her smile faded as a sad peacefulness settled over her face. "I'm dead, I told you."

Jack's brows rose in interest. "Yes, now that brings up a subject of fascination." He beamed sitting down as she sat up. "How exactly _did_ you die?" He leaned forward. "Was it painful?" he leaned closer. "Oh say it was painful; crippling pox, maybe boils?" he leaned so close his nose was almost touching hers "Tell me there were boils, I _wished_ for the boils."

Amelia stared back with the same unenthusiastic annoyance he'd shown her. "It's so good to see you're not bitter about our parting."

A sly and familiar grin danced across his lips. "Not a bit, darling." He said, still so close their noses were almost touching.

"Pneumonia." she said with the same passive sadness. "it was pneumonia."

Jack's expression changed, it was as though for the first time it really hit him. He'd never wished her dead, not once. Oh, he'd wished other things naturally. Perhaps her lying in grand frustration crying out his name, then turning her life over to a convent realizing that no man could satisfy her but the one she'd turned away and would never see again, or something like that, but never death.

Jack leaned back and looked at her somberly as though she were lying in a casket right there.

"Don't look at me like, besides your passing was far more… interesting than mine." She once again found that cheeky smile.

He shot her a blank yet knowing look. Part of him couldn't help but ponder the stories they'd tell of him now that he was gone. 'Did he really sack Nassau without firing a shot?' 'I heard he landed on an island of cannibals and became their chief.' 'No tell the one about how he killed an undead pirate Captain so evil hell itself spat him back out just for looking at him the wrong way.' 'I heard he escaped from a fleet of pirate ships whilst bound n' gagged with a bullet in each arm.' 'I heard from a friend of a friend who know'em that he was tried found guilty and was ready to hang but fought off a hundred Port Royal soldiers and escaped by grabbing two parrots and flying off a cliff.' 'how'd he die?' 'I heard he was swallowed whole by the Kraken, mauled by a thousand jagged teeth doomed to Davy Jones' locker for all time' Was there any truth to the stories?

No, no truth at all.

"Intr'sting is hardly the word for it, luv." he said widening his eyes for emphasis.

"Actually, I think it's the perfect word." She again rest her chin on her wrist. "Dying in pursuit of an upper-class woman already spoken for." she smiled gentle and warm. "hmmm, sounds familiar."

The roué glanced at her unimpressed as he leaned back into a lounging position resting the back of his dreadlock head on his hand. "I didn't hear any complaints from your end, dear." he looked at his nails. He bit the nail of his middle finger and spat it away.

"That's because there weren't any."

He smiled still examining his fingers as the silvery voice spoke.

"I only assumed you'd know better."

Jack rolled his eyes and flopped completely on his back onto the chain, which hurt a bit but he didn't care. "oh bugger woman," he groaned. "is your naggin' for the rest of eternity part of my infinite suffering as well? Because I assumed dragging the Pearl across the desert was bad enough."

The countess moved close and whispered in his ear. "but are you so certain you are dead Jack?" she cooed in that silvery whisper. He felt a tingling chill go throughout his body, from his loins to… well it mainly just hovered around that area. Suddenly the countess didn't seem quite so annoying as she had a moment ago. He raised his brows turning his head ever so slightly in her direction. He arched his right brow as he glanced at her. "You could prove me wrong, luv."

She gave a gentle laugh. "Oh Jack," she said with a smile on those heart shaped lips, parted so beautifully. "that is such a tempting offer." those lips were so close now, those wonderful, lovely… talented lips.

Her mouth was open as she neared his. "but you are half way to hell and that's against the rules." and like that she sat back looking at her nails.

Jack sat there a moment feeling extremely… frustrated. He made a repressing moan clearing his throat. He suddenly realized what her purpose was here. After all what was lugging a ship around the desert for an eternity, compared to lugging a ship around the desert for an eternity of sexual frustration?

"huh…" said that voice again.

Jack closed his eyes and sighed. "what now?"

"That black ring with small diamond studs," she pointed. "just there on your ring finger." she looked back at him. "I wondered for years what happened to it."

He grinned as he wiggled his fingers in front of his face. "I don't know what your talking about, luv. I lifted this liddle darling from a Spanish widow I shagged." He sat up grinning twinkling gold at her.

Jack pinched his thumb and index finger together as though pulling back a string attached to the countess' head. "Hypothetically, though if I did take it from you, I'd have to argue it looks much better on me." he gently waved it in front of her face as though this verified that she was indeed just another notch on his belt.

She grabbed hold of his hand slowly caressing the under palm and each finger as she looked him square in the eye. "Everything looks good on you Jack."

Jack let out a sighing, faintly audible, high-pitched moan. "ah," he jumped back standing up shaking his hand as though he'd just been stung. "there'll be none of that." He lifted his chin and wiped his hands on his jacket trying to gain back some composure. "S'not polite to advertise what you're not selling." he paused a moment eyeing her up and down. "you aren't are you?"

She shook her head 'no'.

"Then there'll be none of that." He straightened his back making another repressing grunt. She hadn't changed, still the same lowdown cut throat tease as she was always. And like always she was running amok on his senses, his intuition, his intelligence--was she really wearing nothing under that night gown? No! Damn it! Bloody hell, focus, focus!

Jack again cleared his throat ignoring the giddy smile on Amelia's face as he turned his back to her again. He sighed heavily wishing badly for a bucket of cold water.

No one did this to Jack Sparrow, of the countless women that had caught his fancy never had one been able to resist him. Even the Countesa Amelia succumbed in the end, but unlike the others she never did so entirely; that was the thrill of it. Nothing brought out the provocateur in Jack more than being told not to…anything. Don't pursue a noble woman, a married noble woman, a married beautiful noble woman completely unhappy and unsatisfied with her dishonest thief of a husband. She seemed totally fair game in Jack's book, however that was before he'd taken a bullet for his trouble.

That bloody wound remained his ever present reminder. Never chase a woman you can't have. And he'd followed that rule strictly until of course.

Jack smiled, his gold teeth just barely peeking through his lips on which he could still taste that kiss. Even here he could still feel those soft lips.

It occurred to him how much Amelia and Elizabeth were alike in that sense. Both beautiful women of status, willing to kill it seemed in the name of honor and decency. Jack couldn't decide if he found that last part appalling or appealing.

He rubbed his lips together, once more they curled up into a smile. His black eyes scanned the scenery or lack thereof. All in all for being the wages of his sin it wasn't that bad, certainly worth turning a saintly governor's daughter into a pirate.

What was it about seeing a saint that just begged Jack to make a sinner out of them?

Again he heard that exquisite laughter from the countess, this was getting tedious.

"The two of you are so very much alike." Said the countess smiling warmly and shaking her head. "Falling in love so completely, and so often, leaving a piece of your heart everywhere you go." She straightened her gown making a knowing face as she rolled her eyes. "Even when reason argues otherwise."

Jack turned standing over her. He lifted his head looking down at her skeptically. "I and whom pray tell?" He wasn't too keen about being compared to anyone, anyone short of greatness, and even then he was the _only _Captain Jack Sparrow.

Amelia continued to smile warmly as she looked up at him. That was perhaps the most frustrating of all, despite her many jabs she'd made since she'd arrived she'd seemed nothing but warm and inviting. There was a sadness in her eyes despite her smile as though she were far away. "My Count." Her eyes focused once more on him as though she'd come out of a daydream. "Fickle."

Jack's nose curled up as though he smelled something awful. He held both arms out at his hips bent at the elbows the fists gently clinched. He lifted his chin high looking out at the blankness, breathing in a calming breath. He made a bitter smile that was badly masquerading as a lighthearted one. "I dare say luv, I've never been so insulted in all my life," He paused a moment then snapped his head back causing his whole back to make a swerving 'S'. "or Afterlife for that matter." He said flinging his arms over his head. He spun doing a 180 with his back again to her. All this spinning was starting to make the bloody chain chafe his shoulders. Once again he flopped down in a cross-legged sitting position with his arms folded.

He glanced over his shoulder. "How is the old geezer?"

His pouting didn't last too long this time before he rolled onto all fours to look at the countess almost as close as before. "please tell me at least _he_ died a horrible excruciating death."

Amelia's brows knit confused for a moment before her forehead went creaseless and she smiled knowing. "My husband," she paused. "died long before I did, shortly after you left in fact." She opened her mouth as though to speak. Her eyes glazed over momentarily.

Jack's bandana came down lower as he made a look at the countess. "Amelia?"

Her eyes cleared and she smiled at him weakly. "I think…I think I may be leaving you soon, Jack."

Jack leaned back sitting on his calves. "So soon, luv?" He raised his brows. "I thought your grand and glorious purpose in my personal hell was to torture me."

She stood up and gently dusted herself off, which was pointless considering there had never been a smudge of dirt on her in life or death. "and just as egotistical." She looked down at Jack. "You are a charismatic delight my love, but an hour in your company is trying never mind an eternity. I came only to apologize"

He looked her up and down offended. "As you should makin' comments like that, which I take great offence to by the way."

"I came to apologize for turning you away perhaps when you needed me the most."

Jack scowled idly drawing little stick figures in the sand then stabbing them each in the stomach. Pity wasn't something he enjoyed unless there was something to be exploited from it. There was nothing to be gained from being pitied here, and it was very irritating.

"I've never needed anyone." he said matter-of-factly as he stabbed a wig wearing stick figure with his thumb. He moved his hand in circles by his wrist. "too much of a lone wolf I suppose."

"But I also came to thank you." she continued indifferent to his words. "for the gift you gave me."

Jack crooked his index finger which had the emerald ring on it as though drawing her in. "Don't you mean permitted you to borrow."

She was silent just smiling warmly. "Don't lose your optimism, dear heart." she leaned down. "You just wouldn't be Jack without it. Besides," She was very close now, her soft mouth so close he could nearly taste her breath. "nothing terrible lasts forever, not even death." She slowly leaned ever closer. Her lips were so close they were almost touching his as she whispered. Whatever she was saying he was only getting perhaps every third word. "Send my love to Amelio when you see him."

She was about to give him a gentle peck on his own perfect lips, before he grabbed hold of her by the arms, and dipped her into a passionate kiss that like so many things only Jack Sparrow could do.

He kissed her with such force and yet so gently that one couldn't help but feel exhilarated and soothed all at once. His right hand moved along her back and slowly up her neck and to the back of her head smoothly moving her lips in step with his own.

"_Goodbye Jack."_

Jack fell forward into the sand he sat up spitting out a mouth full of white sand. He shook his head and blew his tongue trying to get all the sand out of his mouth. His head shot from left to right searching the barren wasteland which was now just that, barren. He stopped looking when he realized that the desert was free of all life, particularly the sensuous countess kind, and that all of his whiplash head twists and the flying beads were starting to hurt his face and neck.

He sighed and fell backwards lying on his back staring up at the sky or lack thereof. "It's just going to be one of those days." Somehow however, he was feeling much more positive than before.

Amelia's words echoed in his ears. 'Are you so certain you are dead, Jack?' He felt a shudder go through his body at the thought of that whisper in his ear. Well he'd been certain before, however he was beginning to wonder.

Jack took off his hat and casually fanned himself for a moment. He rest the hat on his stomach and rest his hands behind his head looking up calmly tapping his foot to some tune in his head.

"hmmm." Maybe his famed luck hadn't run out after all.


	12. The Giant The Count & The IronMaiden pt2

Author's 2 cents: Everyone's favorite dark haired, egotistical, prettiful, short pirate is back… no not Jack, the other guy. I'm happy people like the Count, I don't know how everyone will feel after reading this part in the story but don't worry it'll turn out alright in the end… maybe. As always thax for reading!

Disclaimer: I'm a bit prettier than ol' Jerry Bruckheimer and the folks at Walt Disney Corp. so I don't own Jack or any of the characters from the movies but the made up ones in this story are all mine.

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The captain of the Iron Maiden peered through his spyglass at Isla de Muerta encrusted with all sorts of sea creatures now.

He'd changed a good deal in the solid decade since the Infamous Captain Jack Sparrow crossed his path. He now sported a violet colored scar that stretched from just above his right brow down in between his eyes, under his glasses and ended on the edge of his left cheek. The scar was a souvenir, like the gold tipped shark tooth he wore under his shirt. They were his rewards for taking over the Iron Maiden.

He put away his spyglass and turned to his valet, a short and round-bodied little lad with golden hair and blue eyes. "_This is it." _He purred in Spanish to his manservant.

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The Count's dark eyes twinkled beneath his small gold rimmed spectacles as he gazed at the mounds of glittering gold held deep in the cave of the Isla de Muerta. He had been told the accounts of the fabled treasure but still he could hardly believe his eyes. True, the treasure had been rumored lost but the Count had heard from a reliable source that an earthquake had only sunk the loot deeper in the isle. This same source had told him that the tide would only be out far enough for him to reach it one night every hundred years. Tonight was the night, time was running out.

The crew sat staring at the splendor as their boats drifted up to the banks. The dark-haired Spaniard had always thought it a particularly idiot idea to have only one lifeboat; one of many things he didn't like about the way O'Conner had run the ship. But that's why he was running things differently as captain now wasn't it?

The Count's mouth parted smiling in awe, his black brows came together as his eyes darted around. "Well lads" he yelled in his deep raspy voice complete with its thick Spanish accent. "It will do you little good just looking at it."

With that the crew rushed the treasure heaving as much as the boats would carry. One young sailor Devin, wearing a patch on his left eye that covered the good part of a scar on his face began to make his way toward the giant chest at the highest mound of gold.

The other men grabbed armfuls of gold pendants and pearl necklaces. The boy pushed off the lid and reached inside.

"No!" The Count bellowed at the top of his lungs just as the young sailor was about to grab one of the gold coins.

All of the men went silence either looking at the boy or at the Count with his finger pointed in the boy's direction.

"Steal all the swag that be in this cave, boy. Pick it clean if you like but you'll be damned if you remove but one medallion from that chest." He commanded.

The sailor though young had seen a lot more than most men and was skeptical of the Count's claim. "What makes you so sure?" he barked back grabbing one of the coins to prove his point.

The Count's eyes went half-mast and a dark brow arched. The hand that had been pointing at him was tucked arrogantly around his belt. He put his right foot atop a small rock leaning on it as all the men around him gasped and stared at the skeletal boy's form in shock. "Call it a lucky guess." He turned back to his men. "quit your gawking and get back to loading it on board." Then he marched up the mound of gold to Devin who was looking at his hands in horror. He snatched the coin out of the boy's hand and pulled him out of the faint moonlight that was emerging through the rocks. "Bloody fool" he sneered as he cut the boy's hand dribbled the blood on the coin and tossed it back in the chest. He smacked the boy upside the head and pushed him forward. "Now get to work!"

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Once all the swag was safely on board the Count's men swarmed over the loot like ravenous dogs. Everyone wanted their fair share; the Count himself could really care less. He seldom had need for a good deal of gold and jewels he didn't have extravagant tastes. There was always enough rum to make most ships buckle on his ship, and he always had a little money left over for 'pleasurable company', and of course since Tim O'Conner's untimely 'passing' he had taken over the Iron Maiden and all of The Giant's other worldly possessions.

"The whole treasure of the Isla de Muerta" laughed one of the men holding up two fists full of necklaces.

The Count smiled. He treated his men well and he didn't need that much, only enough to serve his most basic needs. He needed flavored tobacco for his pipe, but that didn't cost too much. The Count needed a lot more rum because he was the captain of a ship, a very stressful job. He also needed books, after all how many pirates could read? It was his privilege, nay his duty to buy them. The Count also needed finer clothes, (not too fine he was still a pirate) it was his obligation to look good when in 'pleasurable company'. And as for 'pleasurable company', the Count 'needed' a lot of pleasurable company… alright maybe needed wasn't the correct way of putting it, but certainly enjoyed more of it than the average man. Even with the considerable discounts his good looks and charm afforded him his tabs were a bit staggering, and skipping out on a check was just ungentlemanly (and the bloody women never let him forget it either).

No, the Count was a simple man with humble tastes, he was so humble he knew that the rest of the crew wouldn't mind that he stashed three trunks full of silver, gold, and jewels in the bowels of the ship. But just in case they didn't he thought it best not to tell them right away. The Count strode up to his cot in his quarters, he hopped into the cot wearing a crown of rubies and emeralds and began smoking his pipe. He sighed gently swinging back and forth on the cot. He'd given up any hope of going back home long ago. It was a pirate's life for him now, but every so often much as he hated it life could be good.

A thunderous 'boom' was heard and felt through out the entire ship. The Count sat up straight in his cot. "Oh no" His shoulders slumped as he sat in the cot. Another thunderous 'boom' that sounded as though the ship had hit two massive rocks. The Count fell out of his cot with a wail and a thud. He knew exactly what it was and if he was going to deal with it he'd need a good deal more rum. He tossed the crown off his head and rushed out of the quarters, the men around him clinging to the masts and the ropes. The Count rushed past one man who yelled. "It's the curse of Cortez' gold we will all be cursed!"

"No we won't" Said the Count deadpanned as he swiftly walked to the stairs that led to the lower decks.

"Count!" yelled Gabriel, a tall muscular fisherman with dreadlocks stood behind the wheel. "It seems we've run aground into some rocks… a lot of them."

"No we didn't." Said the Count deadpanned as he flew down the stairs to the hull into the rum room. He grabbed two… no wait three bottles and began his way back up stairs and to the quarter deck where the same baffled sailor struggled at the helm. All this travel was made very difficult by the fact that not only was the Count carrying three bottles of rum and climbing stairs whatever was the cause those most grievous booms was also throwing him off balance. At last the Count made it to the quarter deck he immediately flopped down against the railing and began guzzling down the rum in bottle number one.

"I don't understand it sir," said Gabriel at the helm trying to move the wheel which would not budge. "It's as though the rock has us wedged in…"

"Yes, that must be it exactly" The Count said calm though greatly lacking enthusiasm. For a second even he hoped it was true until he felt yet another 'boom'

The Fisherman looked blankly for a moment then weakly smiled. "t-though that d-doesn't quite explain the noise if we're stuck."

"No it doesn't" Said the Count deadpanned finishing off bottle number one.

Then a sound more frightening than the great booms was the sudden silence. The Count stared into space for a moment then began gulping down bottle number two faster than he ever had before.

He was interrupted by one of the sailors, a tall but heavyset Spaniard with bright green eyes who in as hesitant voice said. "Um, Sir, I have a message for you, but uh… y-you're not going to believe this--"

"Let me guess!" Said the Count mid-gulp nearly choking and soaking Gabriel's knee whom he was sitting next to with rum. He swung his body which was happily drunker than before onto the rail as he looked down at the man with casualness speaking calmly. "A couple of sea turtles swam up to the side of the ship and request an audience with The Count."

The first mate was speechless. "Well…um…yes actually. How did you know, sir?"

The Count rolled his eyes looking up at the sky. "Lucky guess."

The man's green eyes darted from place to place as though looking for some excuse or clue as to what to do next. Finally he looked up at the Count and asked. "What would you like me to tell them, sir?"

The Count looked at him eyes half-mast but still comically deadpanned as a moment ticked by. "Tell'em to meet me on the starboard side." he grunted slightly annoyed. Then he looked over at Gabriel at the helm with his mouth open in shock. "Would you be so kind as to give me and turtles a few minutes alone?" The sailor nodded still in shock and made his way down the stairs to the main deck.

The Count shuffled over to the side of the ship where two sea turtles were waiting below. He leaned over the side to look down at the turtles who placidly looked up at him. He looked calmly back with one arched eyebrow. "Tia Dalma?"

"Tia Dalma" The sea turtles said in unison.

"Greaaaaaat" he moaned turning back around to lean on the railing. He opened rum bottle number three.

"She has something she needs you to do." Said the blue female turtle in an old crotchety voice.

"Doesn't she always!" he shouted annoyed as a lock of his black hair fell into his eyes.

"She needs you to rescue someone." Said the male turtle who was green.

The Count's brow knit in drunken confusion. He turned around leaning over the rail to look at the two turtles. "Did she not read the job description? I'm a bloody pirate! Rescuing is someone else's department." He spun back around lying on the floor of the deck.

"Tia Dalma owns you!" screeched the female turtle. "If she wants you to sail to the moon to get her some cheese you'll sail to the bloody moon and get her some bloody cheese!" The Count could faintly hear the other turtle telling her to calm down.

The Count sighed taking a sip of rum. He looked over to the stairs where the crew was cluttered each with a different look of horror. He sat up outraged. "I said I wanted a few minutes ALONE with the turtles!" The men scurried away. He lay back down still nursing the rum. "You know darling you're not exactly sweetening the deal!" He yelled down to the sea turtles.

"It has a lot to do with Jack Sparrow." The male turtle yelled.

"Captain." said the Count out of instinct. He paused in thought for a moment his brows came together in thought. "Did you say Sparrow?"

"Yes." both turtles said again in unison.

The Count's threw the upper half of his body over the railing to look down at the two. "You mean he actually survived?" he asked with raised brows but still the ever relaxed attitude.

"Yes!" said the green turtle. "er… no, well sort of. You see he did but he's dead now."

"Oh" He turned back around, took a big gulp of the rum and raised the bottle in the air. "Even so I don't owe him anything and I may be her errand boy but I'm not--"

"There's a chance he can be brought back to life which Tia Dalma herself is working on." Said the turtle. "You'll need to rescue a damsel, whose ship will be sinking--"

"A damsel in distress, or a dog in distress?" The Count interrupted.

"Oh no, I hear she is quite pretty." The green turtle turned to the blue turtle. "You saw her didn't you? Wouldn't you say she's pretty?"

"Oh yes very." chimed the blue turtle.

"Sorry to interrupt again but is that it?" He glanced down at the water but not enough to see the sea turtles.

"Oh no," said the blue female turtle. "You are then to go to Shipwreck Cove."

"Shipwreck Cove?" He turned his head slightly. "Why on earth would I need to go there?"

The green male turtle spoke up this time. "There is to be a gathering of the Pirate Brethren."

The Count's eyes widened and he held the rum bottle closer to his body like a security blanket. "Wait a tic. Tia Dalma _knows_ of this gathering?"

"That's right,"

"and she's alright with this?" he nervously drummed his fingers on the rum bottle his face unchanged.

"Yes, In fact she's meeting you and the others there."

"Ah, I see." He took another gulp of rum. "This wouldn't be just a very well plotted way for her to rid the world of all pirate life as we know it would it?" He shrugged looking glassy eyed. "Not that I'm terribly opposed mind you, I just don't want to be there when it happens."

The turtles were silent for a moment as they looked at one another then back up. "maybe." said the blue turtle with a shrug.

The Count stared blankly into space. "Oh, that's good." He should have brought another bottle of rum.

He took the last swig of rum from the bottle and tossed it over his shoulder and over the rail. "And why wasn't I informed of this?" He asked offended.

"We're informing you now." Said the female turtle dodging the bottle as it fell into the water.

"There is a great war coming Count, the Iron Maiden would be welcomed, along with your expertise with a sword. You must decide now though if you are willing to fight for your way of life."

A long silence passed the sea turtles looked at one another once or twice. Suddenly the Count's head appeared high above them over the railing. His face was blank as another silence ticked by. Then he raised his right eyebrow. "How pretty is she?"

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Jack sat staring up at the nothingness, his hat resting on his chest his jacket folded under his head. "…Three-hundred bottles of rum on the wall, three hundred bottles of rum, take one down pass it around two-hundred-ninety-nine bottles of rum on the wall…"

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"…four bottles of rum on the wall, four bottles of rum, take one down…" It was a strange thing, eternal damnation and torment wasn't so much damning and tormenting as it was dull. White above, white to the right, and what's this? Why it's white to the left. "pass it around…" Jack stopped when he sensed a presence near him, a familiar one about the size of a small continent.

"and you used to call me tone deaf." Jack heard an Irish accent laugh from above his head.

Jack sat up and casually dusted himself off before turning around to look at the giant. "Tim O'Conner."


	13. Ye should never believe a true rumor

Author's 2 cents: This whole bit here explains O'Conner's back story. Sorry if it's confusing but Jack confuses everyone.

Disclaimer: I'm a bit prettier than ol' Jerry Bruckheimer and the folks at Walt Disney Corp. so I don't own Jack or any of the characters from the movies but the made up ones in this story are all mine.

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Years before the Giant would force the Count to join his crew, very long before Tim's death and only moments before he would meet The Infamous Captain Jack Sparrow Tim O'Conner sat drinking in a pub in Tortuga. He was feeling uncharacteristically glum, more than glum he'd never be happy again. He'd just crawl into a rum bottle in Tortuga and never come out again. Grace was dead, why not.

His soft raven-haired angel was dead, but as terrible as that was it was not the worst part. Everything he'd done, every unbelievable feat had been for not. Tim had traded his ship 'The Moonless Knight' for her freedom from that awful cell.

They'd never admit it, no they'd captured it, along with it's Captain Grace O'Malley. She'd even changed her last name just to protect her honest sailor father. They'd spat her back to him sick and dying, he'd tried desperately to save her but nursing had been her mother's strength not his. His pirate princess, his only daughter was dead.

In hindsight this was perhaps the worst place for a depressed man to come for solace. All these happy drunk faces, men who'd come to spend what money they'd risked their necks for on drink and pleasurable company. They could hardly understand the pain a man felt after losing his reason for living, or so O'Conner thought.

Amid the sea of smiling faces sat a pathetic looking man with black hair in dreadlocks. It wasn't only the man's somber disposition that caught Tim's attention. He was most bizarre looking thing he'd seen in his life. The countless beads, gems, and general junk that hung from the man looked ridiculous, like he were carrying his home, his livelihood and half a jungle on his head alone.

The man sat staring at a dirty pint. His head hung low as though it couldn't bare the weight. Finally the weight apparently won out and his head hit the table with a loud thud.

"Oy" said O'Conner grabbing the skirt of one of the bar wenches and pulling her down into his lap. "Who's that fella over there?" he whispered in her ear, eyes locked on the dreadlock man. "The lad what looks like a strong wind could knock'em over."

"Why 'aven't ye 'eard?" squeaked the woman in a nasally voice. "That there's Jack Sparrow."

"Jack Sparrow?" Tim looked at the wench confused.

"gahhh!" said the woman with a laugh. "ain't you never heard of'em bit'uva legend round 'ere." She whispered in his ear. "ye never believe 'alf the stories I've 'eard 'bout. Mah cousin's friend's brother's said once 'e caught sight ah'im in Singapore causing all sorts ah' trouble." she winked with a crooked smile. "drunk wif' a smile on 'is face wif' a woman twice 'is height and 'alf 'is age." she giggled glancing at Sparrow. "not 'ard to see why, 'andsome man like that."

Tim gave the woman a few kisses on the neck. "Why's look like he's ready to keel over then?"

"Well," said the woman eager to talk more gossip. "way I 'eard man's lost everythin'. Ship was sunk, the crew along wif' it leaving 'im the lone survivor."

"Who sunk it?"

The woman shrugged. "Don't rightly know, the King's Royal Navy, or the Company most likely."

Tim stood up dropping the wench to the floor and walked over to the table where the strange man sat. The woman stood up and went back to serving the rest of the men in the pub.

Tim sat down in the chair across from Sparrow. The man's hair looked like black squid tentacles spread out across the greasy table; black squid tentacles wearing a hat. Tim shuddered a bit, anything that reminded him of squids was a very uncomfortable notion.

Tim sat there waiting for some response from the man. The black squid hair didn't move. Tim leaned over to see if the scrawny man was still alive. "Jack Sparrow?" Tim inquired to the man.

"Captain." came a muffled voice from beneath the mess of hair and beads. Then there was no response just a lump lying on the table as though the voice had come from somewhere else.

Tim's eyes looked around waiting for the man to lift his head. Finally Tim leaned close clearing his throat. "Captain Jack Sparrow?"

"Eh?" said Sparrow lifting his head up to look at O'Conner. Jack's dark kohl lined eyes widened and he leaned back in his chair as he looked at Tim. He looked back at the pint he was drinking from then at O'Conner, then at the pint, then at O'Conner. Slowly he moved the pint away as though there were something in it.

"I don't owe you money do I?" Jack said still slowly moving his chair away from the giant man.

Tim's fiery bushy brows came together. "No."

Jack's hands danced back off the table and his shoulders tightened as though waiting for a punch in the face. "I don't own anyone you're working for money do I?"

"No," Tim shook his head. "why?"

Jack's eyes darted over the man. "Because I really wouldn't want to."

Tim managed to smile, something he thought impossible a moment before. He then signaled for two drinks. The same bar wench came over and set down two pints of rum. Jack eyed the woman as she set down the drinks and flashed a smile at him. His eyes stayed locked on her as he spoke and reached for the pint. "To what do I owe such generosity?" He winked at the wench when she looked in his direction.

"Ye looked as though ye could use it, being the only man in'ere not grinnin' from ear to ear." Tim said taking a gulp.

"You're one to talk," Jack said gulping down the rum, setting the pint back down and wiping his mustache with the ratty sash he was wearing. "You look fairly glum yourself." Jack tilted his head down with an odd glint to his eyes. "for a pirate in Tortuga."

Tim sat up straight, setting the cup down a little harder than was necessary. "I'm no pirate."

Jack held his hands up in mocking surrender, He grinned, his mustache stretching and his gold teeth sparkling in the dim light of the tavern. "fine then an honest sailor." he made a face as he sipped the rum as though it tasted sour. "tastes bad even to say it though."

"I don't be that either." said Tim as though the idea of working for the Company or the Crown sickened him.

Sparrow took another sip as he spoke. "What 'be ye' then?" The bizarre looking string bean of a man was making O'Conner's sailor accent as though that proved it. Apparently Jack wasn't aware that he had one as well, though it tended more towards the slurring inaudible kind.

O'Conner didn't feel like much of anything at the moment. He leaned over huddling around the pint for warmth. "I be nothin' but the father of a dead daughter."

Jack had been drinking evidently not listening with his profile to Tim. His protruding Adam's apple stopped moving up and down, and the dark eye facing him turned to look at him as though independent of his head. Then his eye closed and he finished the rum. He set the pint down and looked at Tim his expression completely changed. "I'm sorry for your loss." He had an oddly sympathetic look about him, though as Tim would soon learn over the years it was the look Jack got when he was up to something.

Tim didn't bother to thank him he just nodded.

Jack's right hand absently drummed air as his eyes looked downward as though he'd dropped something. "I suppose that would make you The Giant Tim O'Conner eh?"

Tim looked up at him suddenly alarmed.

The strange man's face was calm as he held his hands up cajolingly in surrender, which now that he noticed it were adorned with some very unusual rings. "Don't fret mate, I've no qualms about you. I'm not the only man whose heard about Grace O'Malley's death or that her father was a giant." His quick eyes darted again about Tim's person. "Though I found the later to be a bit of a stretch."

"That's part the reason I came over here. Fig'red a man in your predicament would understand."

"My predicament?"

"Havin' lost your ship and crew to the company."  
"Oh bugger." said Jack setting down his drink sticking out his leg absentmindedly and tripping a drunken man walking by. Jack's arm lunged out and pulled a watch from the man's pocket as the man went flying and yelling into a table, knocking over two men, one wench, and goat seated near it.

Jack looked at the watch moving it closer then further from his face hazily studying it. "It's been what? An hour since I got here, and already people are talkin' about it." he rolled his eyes tossing the watch over his shoulder. There was a small pause in the conversation as Jack once again wore that curious look. "Was it the EITC that took down O'Malley?"

Tim nodded solemnly. "Yes…. No… they released her but only well after the fever had taken hold a'er." O'Conner gripped the mug tightly in his hands. "But her blood's other their hands as much as is anyone's."

"Hmm." was Jack's only response. Tim was beginning to take great note in this man's character. He'd heard about Jack Sparrow, _everyone_ had heard of Jack Sparrow but no one could believe anything they heard, no one with any sense anyway.

Tim was studying the bizarre dance the gold light was doing on the many glistening objects attached to the man when he spoke.

"She spoke about you, you know." Jack said casually running his finger along the edge of the pint. "ah' knew'er, good girl that one." Jack looked up at O'Conner. "You should be very proud."

"What would she say?"

"oh," Jack leaned back setting his feet on the table. "nothing much," he mused nonchalantly looking up at the ceiling. "Kids stuff really. The way all children talk about their fathers." He waved his hand dismissively. " 'Strongest man alive my dah'," Said Jack in a soft high pitch Irish voice. " 'some might call him a titan. Once scared off some pirates about to board his ship with not but a look.'" Jack leaned back more in his chair resting his hands on his stomach. "'Only man what can boast that he survived a run in with Davy Jones,'"

Tim's eyes darted over to Jack when he said this.

Jack held up a finger. "but it was here that I had to stop her." He said still staring at the ceiling, knowing full well that Tim was now staring at him. "and I'd say 'well of course, any man could survive that if he wanted to, but to stand before the mystic Tia Dalma, now that was something.'"

Tim sat up straight, he'd heard of Tia Dalma but she was scarce knowledge. Only Joshamee Gibbs and himself were two of the only people in the world who had heard of her, he thought. Even so, Tim didn't know where she was or if she was real and the way Josh told things he was certain she wasn't real. "and you have?" Tim responded with an arched brow.

Jack, who had been looking at his nails swung his legs off the table and sat up. "oh! Abslutatively." he beamed leaning in close with a smile. "She and I go way back." the smile seemed to be losing it's strength slightly. He cleared his throat and once again turned profile to Tim looking up at the ceiling.

Tim smiled a broad Buddha smile. "Surely ye don't believe every rumor ye hear, Jack."

Jack jerked his head back. "You ought not never believe a rumor lest it be true."

"Aye," said O'Conner glancing ruefully at the Sparrow tattoo peeking out of Jack's shirt sleeve. "But sometimes ye shouldn't believe a true rumor either."

Jack's hand twirled around in circles, this seemed all too obvious to him. "Naturally.--However!" Jack's hand struck at attention holding his index finger and thumb pinched together. "if I were so inclined to venture--purely for theoretical purposes mind you--I would be inclined to believe that we could be of great use to one another." Jack's black eyes moved mechanically to gauge O'Conner's reaction.

O'Conner still smiling leaned forward suspicious. "What do ye mean?"

Jack moved his wrist in elegant little half circle. "I mean my dear Mr. O'Conner that you have my Davy Jones and I have your Tia Dalma, both thoroughly valuable bits of information, of little use to ourselves."

Tim leaned back intrigued by the offer but still very suspicious of this man. "And what makes ye think I'm after your Tia Dalma?"

"No _your_ Tia Dalma let us not get confused." Jack turned to face him completely. "And I have it on good intuition that Grace would rather see the 'Moonless Knight' at the bottom of the ocean than in the hands of the Company." He paused. "I also have it on good intuition that you'd rather sea a few Company ship captains with it, than to let them continue spreading the lies as they have."

Tim still sat back but now his face had turned stony as he mulled over the notion. Most of the time Tim's greatest advantage was that people over estimated his strength and underestimated him mind. This was different though, within minutes of their conversation Tim could tell Jack knew better. It was refreshing in an odd way, it made him like Jack, it also made him all the more suspicious of him. "And why would ye be so willin' to part with that tid-bit?"

"Out of respect and love of Grace O'Malley." Jack said mournfully.

O'Conner smiled a slightly bitter smile at Jack. "You're a good salesman Jack" he said in a sweet and calm tone. "but I'm not buyin'," he said standing up engulfing Jack in his own ominous shadow. "So ye best tell me what you're really after."

"Right then," Jack said quickly glancing for the nearest exit should need be to use one in a hurry. "you found me out," Jack very calmly looked in his pint for some lost rum then just as calmly almost arrogantly stared up at the mountain of a man looking for an excuse to do away with him and the trouble he was bound to bring (another trait that would mark their relationship for years to come). "I need a good ship, a very specific ship, a sunken ship in fact, one that can out run naval officers, the company, and old… _acquaints_, savvy?"

Tim's brows came together. Jack looked him up and down with his head. He hinted at what Tim was to do next by lifting his bejeweled hand flat, palm down, and slowly moved up and down. O'Conner as he rolled his eyes and sat back down.

Tim leaned back in the chair and signaled for another drink. "So why not simply get yer ship back from Tia Dalma if that's what yer suggesting I do?"

Jack eyed the wench as she served O'Conner his drink. "All this talking has me slightly parched."

Tim didn't even stop drinking to answer. "Don't push yer luck." He said into the cup with his index finger extended. " 'sides," he said wiping his mouth. "I need to be savin' me money for a funeral."

Jack tilted his head down and looked up at Tim like a newly reprimanded dog, though Tim doubted this had little to do with guilt over Gracie, as it was sorrow over a missed opportunity for free rum.

Jack straightened up and made a face signaling for another pint. When the woman set it down in front of him. He answered. "Aside from the fact that one of the only things she can't do is bring a ship back from Davy Jones Locker, she happens to be one of said acquaintceses." He gulped down the rum.

Tim pondered as he watched the man with a piece of eight hanging, from over his red bandana, and braids snaking in and out of his matted beaded hair. He was almost certain this was a mistake, no rhyme or reason suggested that this was possible, that there was a Tia Dalma, any ship to be gained, that this was the real Jack Sparrow, or that 'acquaintceses' and 'abslutatively' were real words. He did know one unbelievable thing for certain however, there _was_ a Davy Jones, Tim could vouch for that.

And just like that Tim realized what was so strange about Jack, aside from the obvious it was that he was real. Captain Jack Sparrow was a man of flesh and blood, despite how outlandish the tales. here he was proof in his dreadlocks and beads, his rings and gold teeth, the countless unusual trinkets tied to him. Just by sitting here there was at least some truth to the tales.

Jack finally stopped drinking. And glanced coolly at O'Conner but now he had that glint to his eyes, though it could have simply been a trick of the light. No, even by this time Tim knew better. He could recognize that slight crinkling at the edges of Jack kohl eyes, the little tugs at his mustache and the ends of his lips. "Well since you've made it clear you will not buy what I'm selling," he set his pint down in satisfaction. He extended his hand across the table to Tim. "Can we settle on accord?"

Tim stared at the filthy hand stretched toward him wrapped around the palm in leather. The Giant man couldn't deny that part of him wasn't only a little concerned for his own skin but for Jack's, since it was clear the scrawny man didn't know what he was asking for. O'Conner reached into his boot and pulled out a small dagger and held it in plain sight for Jack to see.

Jack's fingers coiled when he saw the blade but he didn't retract his hand or his offer.

Tim glanced at the dagger then held it by the blade. "Shall we seal it in blood then?"

Jack moved his hand around by the wrist. "Sure why not."

Tim looked at Jack for a long moment debating. He finally decided. He reached over and grabbed Jack's hand.

Both men squeezed tightly round the blade until a drop of blood dripped on the table. O'Conner then grabbed the blade by the handle and yanked it out of their hands.

Jack winced as he let go. His hand was cut but only where the leather hadn't covered the leather was, surprisingly fine. He looked at it as he spoke. "we are in agreement then, we each give up the location of our respective other."

Tim looked at his bleeding hand. It was like some ominous thing, or a symbol of Jack's or worst his fate. He began to wrap the wound glancing up at Jack. "Aye…"

"Alright." Jack beamed pulling a small piece of leather out of his shirt and tossing it onto the table. "Lead ya straight to her, oh" Jack winced again this time had nothing to do with the cut. "When you see her feel free to leave me out if she asks how you came by that."

Tim reached for it, but Jack's wily hand snatched it away before he had the chance. "Well?"

Tim looked hesitantly at Jack. "There be no map that can lead to Davy Jones." Tim stared downward off into space. "Only a faint light among a sea of darkness will bring'em."

"that's terribly poetic mate but that still doesn't tell me how to find him."

Tim grabbed the map but Jack held tight. "You can't find him Jack, He'll find you." He stared eyes locked with Jack. "When all yer world is crumpling around ye, when no future is in sight, then when ye delude yerself into believin' there be a faint glimmer of hope to escape yer miserable fate, on the open water he comes for ye."

"so…. I'll need to be in the middle of the ocean at some point."

Tim sighed. "Aye," he took the last sip from his pint. "here's luck to you Jack Sparrow."

"hmm" said Jack thoughtfully as he let go of the little leather map. "I'll need some help then…" he said under his breathe as Tim walked away.

'_more than you know Jack Sparrow'_ Tim stuffed the map in his pocket as he walked out of the pub.

Strange for the Caribbean the night felt icy cold. He felt like he'd just signed a death warrant and been had at the same time. One thing had been made certain despite all evidence to argue otherwise Jack had come into Tortuga but he'd been looking for _Tim. _And he'd found him cleverly too, to the point where O'Conner had even thought he had sought out Sparrow.

It didn't matter now, within a year or two when the men met again they would realize that they had both been swindled.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Tim O'Conner looked the same as when Jack had last seen him as well. Rum bottle in hand, the over sized belt buckle, the wide Buddha smile occasionally peeking open to expose rotting teeth and in the far corner of his mouth a twinkle of a gold one were all as he remembered.

The Giant smiled contentedly at Jack as he sat down on the white stone. "Jack Sparrow."

"Captain." Jack corrected looking unimpressed at O'Conner.

Tim smiled and chuckled. "aye," he glanced up at the Black Pearl sitting bashfully behind Jack. "and no finer vessel there to be captain of." He said taking a swig of his rum bottle.

Jack looked longingly at the rum bottle wetting his lips.

Out of the corner of his eye O'Conner noticed this. He extended his meaty hand clasped round the rum bottle towards Jack.

Jack squinted at O'Conner suspiciously, as his hand slowly reached for the onion shaped bottle. When his fingers were touching the edge he grabbed hold of it and began vigorously drinking down it's contents. Suddenly Jack's face puffed up and he spat the liquid back and lurched about on the sand. "Agh! Ack!" he yelled wiping his tongue with both hands. He picked up the bottle and threw it back at O'Conner. "Water! Bloody water!"

"Well what do ye expect?" O'Conner shrugged raising his voice as he picked up the bottle. "Yer half way to hell."

Once he was done blowing on his tongue to get the awful flavor off he glanced back at O'Conner. He couldn't help but smile as he took off his hat and began to fan himself. It was still hot as Hades yet if it wasn't Jack's imagination it wasn't as bright as it was before, no, he was convinced it wasn't as bright. Not so bad, at least his eyes didn't sting as much. "Well now," He slapped his hat on the white sand which now seemed to have the faintest shade of blue to it. He still stared at Tim with an arrogant look on his face.

Tim folded his arms and smiled bitterly knowing exactly what Jack would say.

"Who," said Jack with a dramatic sway as he sat in the sand. "or what, managed to kill The Giant Captain Tim O'Conner." He spoke it like a campy dramatic speech rather than a question.

"Good to see ye too, Jack." Said O'Conner running a hand over his red hair.

"you have no _idea_ how good it is to see you mate," Jack's eyes looked around at the blankness around him. "'specially in this little corner of paradise." Jack lifted his arms by the elbows and turned his wrists around in circles gesturing to their surroundings.

"I'd'a sent ye here sooner, for that little stunt ye pulled." O'Conner leaned forward, normally a very imposing sight, but Jack was hardly alarmed, after all what was he going to do? Kill him? He already missed that boat.

Jack fell back into a lounging position still very much wrapped in the great chain, but he was adjusting to it quite well he thought. "Don't take it so hard it was only self preservation, Tim." He toyed with some of the trinkets hanging from his second belt, particularly a chicken foot he got from… someplace. Dammit it was hard to think here. "You know as well as I do if you'd known about the reward the only difference is I would have been wearin' a bow when you handed me over."

O'Conner grabbed him by the shirt and jerked him upwards. Jack for the most part could have cared less he just stared off into space, tuning Tim out(like always). He was beginning to wonder what Amelia or Elizabeth were doing at that moment. Tease or not he was starting to miss Amelia's company compared to the one he was in now.

"oh ye cost me quite a bit that day Jack!" He said shaking Jack like a limp rag doll.

Jack stared half mast into space. "careful mate your tearin' the fabric."

O'Conner tossed him back on the ground. "but that's not why I'm as furious with you as I am."

Jack felt the wind being knocked out of him, not so very much from being thrown on the ground but from the heavy chain landing on his chest. Jack sat up suddenly coming to a revelation. His eyes ticked back and forth over the chain around him, the very heavy chain, which Tim had moved quite easy.

"It was that little white lie you told."

Jack's brow creased, but he didn't look up. "You'll have to be more specific mate."

"Ye never knew me daughter Jack." O'Conner said kneeling down staring him down.

"And what pray tell brought you to that absurd conclusion?" Jack said lifting his chin in defiance.

"Ye think that Davy Jones seeks ye out on a windless day, or when a whiff of fog comes into view, or if there's a shortage of rum?" He said his beat red face in Jack's

Jack shrugged sitting on his elbows. "no rum would certainly dampen my spirits quite a bit."

O'Conner hit Jack in the chest with a massive open hand. Jack felt like he was made of nothing but a hollow shell as he fell backwards coughing.

"Grace's death, that's what brought him to me." Tim's bushy knit brows tugged slightly in the middle with pain. He sat heavy back on the stone, as though his own weight exhausted him. "And how could she have _bragged_ about my having survived the likes of Davy Jones when it was her death that brought it about!"

Jack dusted himself off. "No one forced you to agree to the bargain."

"I was forced, because one part of that story of yers was true I did survive a run in with'em and he never let me forget it either."

Jack looked around. "Now that does bring up an interesting topic. Where is the Iron Maiden? I thought certain you'd be lugging it around for the rest of time." Jack eyed Tim with a small smile peeking through. "Or did someone take said grand and glorious boulder from you?"

Tim leaned on his knee tired as he stared at Jack annoyed that his out burst had done nothing to shake the cheeky pirate.

Jack sat up cross legged. He picked up his hat and dusted off he sand that had accumulated on it from the scuffle. He restored it back to his hollow brow before looking at Tim with a sly glint in his eye. "You didn't answer my first question Tim." He paused then spoke barely above a whisper. "Who managed to take down the Giant Tim O'Conner?"

Tim looked at Jack for a long moment then chuckled and ran his hand over his hair once more. "An old friend of ours…."


End file.
